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“I did not call you over to give me a bath,” 

cried Squeaky 



























) . 

J 

SNYTHERGBN 

BY 

HAL GARROTT / 


BLLUSTRATIONS BY 
DUGALD WALKER 




> > » 





Copyright, 1923, by 
Uobebt M. McBride & Co. 





First Published, 1923 


Printed in the United States of America. 


DOM 9 *23 

a * 


Pi 


©C1A760425 




TO 

Hal and Jean 














CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I Slender Foods and Round Foods. 1 

II A Ticklish Tree.11 

III Played on a Musical Skirt.21 

IV A Bird and a Tree Play at Hide and Seek . . 29 

V How a Pig Learned to Talk.37 

VI The House at the End of a Rope.45 

VII Bear on Ice.53 

VIII A Runaway Tree.65 

IX The Doctor Discovers a Tree with St. Vitus’ 

Dance.71 

X The Bear Sees the “Grasshopper Pig,” Hears the 

“Huntsmen,” and is Present at the “Escape” 87 

XI The Journey to the Wreath—A Spin in a Hum¬ 
ming-Top—An Unknown Friend .... 99 

XII Aboard a Floating Beard.113 

XIII The Pie Room—Bear Again!—Sancho Wing 

Scolds.123 

XIV Snythergen’s Troubles.135 

XV Toy Foods.147 

XVI Home.155 















































THE ILLUSTRATIONS 


IN COLOR 


“I did not call you over to give me a bath,” cried Squeaky 

Frontispiece 


FACING 

PAGE 

It was inspiring to hear this chorus accompanied by full or¬ 
chestra .24 

The house was left dangling above ground to receive an airing 
out.46 

“Bears should not talk when their mouths are full of food,” said 
Santa Claus kindly.128 


IN BLACK AND WHITE 

PAGE 


H is father would stand on one hand and his mother on the 
other. 5 

Like mothers the world over she knew how to sacrifice herself 13 

His feet projected out of the window in the butler’s pantry 19 

Snythergen cried, “Don’t do that!”.33 

To die in her arms would have been a happier lot than leaving 
her.41 

“At least I can relieve his headache”.59 

“Stick out your tongue!”.75 

He would strike a tree-like pose.83 

Then went around again to see if he had overlooked any 
crumbs.91 

“Some unusual weight behind”.101 


“The only kind of humming-top to have”.105 

“Stop the top, stop the top!” bellowed Squeaky .... 109 

“Squeaky, who is a voice with a pig’s body”.117 

The door-man, turning his head sideways, wiggled his left ear 125 

A traffic butler stood at hall intersections.141 

And squeezed him almost as tightly as the farmer’s wife had 
done . 


151 















CHAPTER I 

SLENDER FOODS AND ROUND FOODS 

S NYTHERGEN’S mother was poor—so 
poor that she did not feel able to sup¬ 
port her baby boy. So she put him in 
a basket—it had to be a large one—and left 
it on the doorstep of a little old couple who 
had long wished for a child. 

The pair were very much surprised, not 
only at finding Snythergen, but at his unusual 
appearance. He was thin as bones and very 
long—so long that he appeared to be wearing 
stilts. His body was very ungainly and the 

l 































2 


SNYTH ERGEN 


couple’s first feeling was one of disappoint¬ 
ment—until they looked into his eyes. These 
were bright and roguish and something else 
not easy to name—something that made them 
know he was their child, and they loved him. 

The new papa and mamma were very proud. 
First of all they wanted their boy to fill out 
into a healthy well-fed child, so they stoked his 
neglected stomach with the richest of farm 
foods. The effect was prompt. It was amaz¬ 
ing how Snythergen changed from day to day. 
His cheeks rounded, his shoulders broadened, 
and the layers of flesh spread over his lean 
trunk until he was as bulging as a rubber ball. 
He was getting enormous and his parents were 
beginning to sense a new danger. 

“He will burst if he keeps on getting fatter,” 
said his mother anxiously. 

“I must study the question,” said his father, 
who was a philosopher. 

One day the father came in much excited. 
“I know what it is that makes babv so fat! 
He eats the wrong kind of food. His diet is 
too round. It is all pumpkins, potatoes, toma¬ 
toes, eggs, oranges. Now to get thin he should 
eat thin foods, like celery, asparagus, pie-plant, 
and macaroni.” 

So they fed him long slender foods, and he 


SNYTHERGEN 


3 


began changing at once. He shot up almost 
as fast as Jack’s beanstalk, until they were 
alarmed for fear he would never stop shooting 
up. He had grown until he could look into 
the second story windows standing on the 



ground, and could place his hand on the top 
of the chimney without getting on tiptoes. 
Again it was time something was done, and 
they sat down to think the matter over. 

“I have it,” said the papa at last. “Son must 


























































SNYTHERGEN 


4 

not eat all round nor all slender foods! The 
two must be mixed!” 

So they mixed them just in time to save Sny- 
thergen from shooting up like a skyrocket. 
But by the time his growth was arrested he was 
altogether too big for a boy. 

There was no room in the house large 
enough for him to sleep in and he could not 
go upstairs; the passage was too small and the 
ceiling too low. But they found a place by 
letting his legs and body curl around through 
the hallways and connecting rooms of the 
ground floor. His head rested on a pillow in 
the living room and his feet projected out of 
the window in the butler’s pantry. Every 
night before he went to bed his mother tucked 
him in carefully, unfurling a roll of sheets and 
quilts that had been sewed together and were 
long enough to stretch from his feet to his 
neck. 

Before he left for school in the morning his 
parents always kissed him good-by affection¬ 
ately. The parting took place outdoors in 
front of the house. Snythergen would bend 
over and place his broad hands on the ground, 
palms up. His father would stand on one 
hand and his mother on the other, holding 
tightly to their son’s coat sleeves. Then Sny- 



His father would stand on one hand and his mother on the other 


































































r 






SNYTHERGEN 


7 

thergen would raise his arms, lifting his parents 
until they were on a level with his face. 

“Now be a good boy, Snythergen,” said the 
little father, “or I shall spank you severely!” 

“Of course he will be a good boy,” said the 
mother, as she leaned over and kissed him. 

Then the papa would climb up his ear and 
place his hands on his son’s head and give him 
his blessing. Snythergen would then lower 
both parents gently to the ground and start for 
school. 

Snythergen was nearly always late in start¬ 
ing for school. He seldom slept well, for his 
bed was uncomfortable and he could not turn 
over or even change his position, without in¬ 
juring the house. Every night before going 
to sleep he would resolve to be up early on the 
morrow, but regularly failed. And one morn¬ 
ing he arose so very late that it was necessary 
to find a short cut if he were to arrive at school 
in time. 

What could he do? He tried to think of a 
scheme while collecting his books. Bending 
over to pick up his slate pencil, he placed his 
head between his heels, just for the fun of it. 
And this gave him an idea! With his head still 
in this position, he bent his body into a circle 
making a hoop of himself. Then he began to 


8 


SNYTHERGEN 


roll down hill across the fields, slowly at first, 
then faster and faster, then so fast he could 
not stop. He bounded over fences and ditches, 
until, all out of breath and very much flushed, 
he found himself at the school house door! 
This short cut saved him at least a mile, and 
it was such fun rolling down hill, he went that 
way every morning thereafter, rolling up to 
the door just as the school-bell was ringing— 
to crawl into the passage on his hands and 
knees. 

There was not room enough for Snythergen 
to stand up in school, so the janitor cut a trap 
door beside his desk so that his feet extended 
into the basement. Even then he stood taller in 
the school room than the other pupils. But he 
would have managed very well had the janitor 
not been absent-minded and near-sighted. He 
seemed never able to remember that those long 
shanks were legs—not pillars. Again and 
again he would tie the clothes-line to them, 
and on wash days when Snythergen went out 
at recess, usually he trailed a piece of clothes¬ 
line behind each leg, with the washing hanging 
on. And the janitor got such a scolding from 
his wife for this that he grew to dislike Sny¬ 
thergen almost as much as Snythergen disliked 
him. 


SNYTH ERGEN 


9 

One morning the janitor painted the base¬ 
ment. And when Snythergen went out at re¬ 
cess his legs were a brilliant yellow and pinned 
to each was a sign: “Fresh Paint.” That day 
he had an easy time playing tag, for no one 
wanted to get smeared with paint badly enough 
to touch him. 

One day the janitor was so forgetful as to 
start to drive a nail into one of Snythergen’s 
legs. This was too much! The poor boy 
jumped out of the cellar, and in rising thrust 
his head through the roof. So angry was he, 
he hardly knew what he was doing. He 
stepped over the walls carrying the roof with 
him, then tossed it on the ground and hurried 
away. “I won’t, won’t go back to school,” he 
kept saying to himself. Rather than go back 
and face the ridicule of his schoolmates he de¬ 
cided to run away. 















































































CHAPTER II 

A TICKLISH TREE 

F OR some time Snythergen had been 

thinking of running away and had 

planned to go to the forest and live 

with the trees, whose size was about like his 

own. While waiting for the time to arrive, 

he had made himself a disguise—and a very 

good one it was, too,—it was a suit of brown 

and green that made him look just like a tree. 

For a long time he had kept it hidden in some 

11 















12 


SNYTH ERGEN 


bushes. Yes, he had quite made up his mind 
to run away. 

He went home that night and looked into the 
upstairs windows for a last sight of his dear 
mother and father. His father was already 
asleep when he arrived, but his mother was sit¬ 
ting anxiously by the window waiting for her 
little boy to come home. He rubbed his nose 
on the glass until she noticed that he was there, 
then placed a finger to his lips cautioning her 
to be quiet. She raised the window softly and 
whispered: 

“Snythergen, what is the matter?” 

“Mother, dear, I am going away. I cannot 

stand going to school any longer. I am too 

big and they are beginning to laugh at me. I 

was never meant for a student anvwav. I am 

• 0 

going to live in the forest with the trees. They 
will not make fun of me. I have made myself 
a suit of bark and branches which makes me 
look just like one of them. Some day I will 
come back to you and take you to my new 
home. But now I must leave you and go and 
seek my fortune!” 

The poor mother’s heart was almost break¬ 
ing. The tears streamed from her eyes, but - 
deep in her heart she knew it was best for him 
to go. Like mothers the world over she knew 



Like mothers the world over she knew how to sacrifice herself when 

it was for the good of her child 



















































































































SNYTHERGEN 15 

how to sacrifice herself when it was for the 
good of her child. She kissed him again and 
again. Just then the father turned uneasily 
in his sleep. 

“Hurry, hurry, my darling boy! If your 
father hears you he will give you a terrible 
spanking.” As he rushed away, great tears 
were dashed from his eyes by the branches of 
tree-tops. 

Snythergen went straight to the forest and 
very early the next morning dressed in his 
suit of green and took his place as a tree. For 
a long time he stood very still, holding his 
branches out and w r aving his leaves in the 
breeze. “I wish something would happen,” he 
said to himself. “It certainly bores one to be 
a tree.” He had been standing there since 
daybreak and the sun was now high in the 
sky. The birds as yet had not lighted on him. 
Some instinct made them hesitate. At last a 
daring woodpecker approached his trunk, and 
began a series of sharp pecks. Snythergen 
stifled an “ouch” and made a wry face. The 
first woodpecker was followed by others. 
They attacked his bark until it itched and 
smarted all over. In spite of his discomfort 
he tried to stand very still for he thought it be¬ 
neath a tree’s dignity to show its feelings. 


i6 


SNYTH ERGEN 


Unfortunately Snythergen was ticklish and 
whenever the birds touched a sensitive spot he 
could not help wiggling. This frightened the 
woodpeckers for a while and they flew to a 
neighboring limb to gaze at the strange tree. 
But as soon as they stopped tickling Snyther¬ 
gen always stopped shaking. This puzzled 
the birds. They could not understand why 
they felt the tree shake when they pecked, but 
could not see it move when they stopped to 
look at it. Finally they decided that they only 
imagined it moved, and after that they did not 
fly away unless the wiggling was very violent 
—which it was whenever a bird happened to 
blunder upon Snythergen’s “funny bone.” 
Snythergen was beginning to realize that the 
life of a tree is not all joy. Hardly could he 
wait for night to come when the birds would fly 
away. In the meantime he tried and tried to 
think of a plan to outwit them. “I have it!” 
he whispered to himself at last. 

When it was quite dark he pulled off his tree 
suit, and went to a near-by town to purchase 
several xylophones. These are musical instru¬ 
ments with keys usually made of wood, and 
played on with a little mallet. Snythergen took 
the keys apart and strung them about his trunk 
so that they hung about him like a skirt of mail, 


SNYTH ERGEN 


17 

to protect his bark from woodpeckers. The 
next morning when the birds began to circle 
around him, he smiled to himself. When one 
of them lighted and began pecking away, a 
cheery sound came forth. And when the others 
followed his example the whole tree became a 
bedlam of musical jingles. “Peck away, peck 
away!” said Snythergen to himself, “you cannot 
hurt me now!” 

It was not long before the strange sounds is¬ 
suing from the tree attracted all the wild life 
of the forest. The air became almost black 
with flying things, and the ground was swarm¬ 
ing with animals little and big. Even a bear 
came along and Snythergen trembled from roots 
to peak leaf. How he wanted to run home to 
his mother! It would be easier to go back and 
face his schoolmates than to stay alone with a 
bear. But at heart Snythergen was really a 
brave little boy and his courage soon returned. 
He had set out to be a tree and he made up 
his mind he would be a worthy one. He did 
not want the forest to be ashamed of him. “I 
must not be the first tree that ever ran away. It 
would set all the others such a bad example!” 
he thought. So he held his teeth together very 
firmly, and stood up ever so straight and stiff. 
“I must appear calm and unconcerned,” he said 


i8 


SNYTH ERGEN 


to himself, but his heart beat so rapidly and 
thumped so loudly he thought the bear must 
surely hear it. But the big brute was too much 
absorbed in the strange concert to think of any¬ 
thing else, and did not suspect that a spare- 
ribbed boy trembled behind a disguise of bark, 
boughs and leaves. 

After a while the novelty wore off and the 
bear went about his business, much to Snyther- 
gen’s relief. The others, too, felt easier when 
the big brute was gone, and crowded more 
closely about the strange tree. 




































His feet projected out of the window in the butler’s pantry 










































































CHAPTER III 

PLAYED ON A MUSICAL SKIRT 

A THOUGHTFUL appearing goldfinch 
hovered about the strange tree. He 
would sit long in one of Snythergen’s 
branches as if lost in a golden study. Occa¬ 
sionally he would peck at the various wooden 
keys and listen critically, but the sounds he pro¬ 
duced were sickly compared to the wood¬ 
peckers’ ringing tremolo. 

“I wonder what he’s up to,” thought Sny- 

thergen. “Some deviltry, I’ll wager! He 

21 
















22 


SNYTH ERGEN 

seems a wise little bird. Evidently he’s plan¬ 
ning to do something to me. I suppose I’ll 
find out what it is when he gets ready to let 
me know, and not before!” 

The goldfinch flew among the woodpeckers 
and assembled about two hundred of them in 
Snythergen’s branches. Then he made them 
a speech. 

“He is explaining his project,” thought Sny- 
thergen. The finch would flit up to a key, 
peck it and return to his branch, chirping ani¬ 
matedly. When he had finished the wood¬ 
peckers tossed their heads and chorused some¬ 
thing. Snythergen could not decide whether 
it was an oral vote or a cheer. 

“The meeting must be over,” thought Sny¬ 
thergen, relieved. But his relief was short¬ 
lived. The entire flock flitted down, landing 
on his trunk, and covering it until there was 
a bird stationed beside each xylophone key. 

“Whew,” gasped Snythergen. “It wouldn’t 
be so bad on a cold wintry day, but this is no 
time of year to be smothered in an overcoat of 
xylophones and birds!” 

His sap coursed feverishly through his trunk 
and the veins of his leaves. He fanned his 
moist bark cautiously with his upper boughs. 
The birds were too absorbed in their scheme, 


SNYTHERGEN 


23 

whatever it was, to pay any attention to the 
tree’s unusual motions. 

Snythergen was almost suffocated with heat. 
“Why don’t they tar and feather me and be 
done with it!” he groaned. “It amounts to that 
anyhow, for my sap is as hot as tar—and as for 
feathers!” 

Here he paused, struck by the sweet sounds 
issuing from his trunk. The goldfinch was ap¬ 
parently leading an orchestra of woodpeckers 
and they were playing bird calls! 

“So this is your scheme,” thought Snyther¬ 
gen. “Not a bad idea at all!” A cool breeze 
had just sprung up from the north, enabling 
Snythergen to cool off and enjoy the perform¬ 
ance. The finch was perched on a central 
limb and was pointing his bill at the different 
players when he desired them to respond. He 
was standing on one leg. With the other he 
beat time, using a tiny twig as baton. The 
music attracted many birds and animals and 
the goldfinch made them a speech. As nearly 
as Sny.thergen could guess from his gestures the 
little bird said something like this: 

“We’re going to give a symphony concert to¬ 
night shortly after bug time! Everybody is in¬ 
vited to come and bring his family and friends.” 

Preparations for the concert were in progress 


24 


SNYTHERGEN 


all day. An hour before the audience was ad¬ 
mitted the western sky was ablaze and the ani¬ 
mals thought the forest was on fire. But it 
was only a cloud of fireflies coming to light the 
concert. When they arrived the business man¬ 
ager (an intelligent crow) directed them to 
stand just touching each other along all the 
branches, twigs and leaves of the tree, until 
Snythergen sparkled from roots to peak with 
thousands of points of light. The branch on 
which the goldfinch perched was lighted more 
brilliantly than the others. Festoons of acro¬ 
batic fireflies holding together hung down from 
it like ropes of light. 

At the appointed time animals and birds were 
admitted to the reserved space about the tree. 
Crow ushers kept order and showed each one 
where to sit. Birds were admitted to all but 
the stage branches of the tree, and they cov¬ 
ered every part of Snythergen unoccupied by 
fireflies. At first the fireflies were afraid of 
the great birds that stood close enough to touch 
them, and they would have flown off in terror 
if the crows had not watched over and pro¬ 
tected them. By this time the ground was 
black with animals. Not only every seat, but 
every inch of standing room was taken. By 
eight o’clock every member of the orchestra 



It ivas inspiring to hear this chorus accompanied 

hy full orchestra 

































































SNYTHERGEN 


25 

was perched at attention. Beside every xylo¬ 
phone key a woodpecker awaited the signal to 
begin. 

When all were seated the goldfinch walked 
proudly forth from his dressing room of leaves 
and took his position in the center of the stage- 
limb. He was indeed a handsome fellow. His 
gay head-dress was gracefully arranged. His 
feathers were as smooth as satin, and his mani¬ 
cured claws shone in the light of the fire¬ 
flies. His entrance was greeted with tremen¬ 
dous applause and he had to bow again and 
again. When it was quiet, he raised his baton 
and bill together and gave the signal. The con¬ 
cert began. All listened breathlessly to the 
wonderful strains. Aside from the music there 
was not the faintest sound of animal, bird or 
insect in the forest. Even the trees kept tight 
hold of their leaves, to keep them from rustling 
in the breeze. 

Before the concert was over the call of nearly 
every being present had been given by the 
orchestra. The meadow lark’s song was en¬ 
cored again and again. It was so short it was 
over in a jiffy and the audience could not get 
enough of it. 

Once during the evening the leader was 
worried for a moment. In a front seat he had 


26 


SNYTHERGEN 


spied an old frog and he knew his bass woods 
did not go low enough to imitate the frog 
song. So when an usher came up and whis¬ 
pered in his ear that the frog was stone deaf 
and would not know it if his call were omitted, 
he was very much relieved. Happily the old 
fellow was the only frog present. 

The favorite number proved to be the brown 
thrasher’s song. It was long enough to make 
a piece, and seemed just suited to xylophones. 
Since Snythergen wore at least twelve of these 
instruments in his skirt of mail, there were 
enough different keys to provide soprano, alto, 
tenor and bass. The audience was much 
stirred by the wonderful performance, and the 
leader as a compliment to the brown thrashers 
directed the ushers to conduct all of them pres¬ 
ent to a stage limb just beneath him. They 
were lined up in a row and firefly foot-lights 
shone upon a long line of feathery breasts in 
front and straight slender tails behind. 

It was inspiring to hear this mighty chorus 
accompanied by full orchestra, in one of the 
most beautiful of bird songs. No wonder birds 
and animals clapped until their claws and paws 
ached, and when the concert was over, refused 
to go home until the leader announced an¬ 
other performance next week. 


SNYTHERGEN 


27 


“Well, at last,” said Snythergen, when all 
had left, “I can have a moment’s rest. There 
won’t be another concert if I can help it—and 
I think I can!” 










CHAPTER IV 

A BIRD AND A TREE PLAY AT HIDE AND SEEK 

S NYTHERGEN took off his suit and lay 
upon the ground. In a minute he was 
fast asleep. Early the next morning he 
arose and put on his tree suit but not the xylo¬ 
phone skirt. It was a hot day and it would be 
cooler without that. And he believed that 
after their hard day the woodpeckers would 
sleep till noon. He was right. Not one came 

to disturb him in the morning. But without 

29 

















30 


SNYTHERGEN 


them there were plenty of curious eyes staring. 
For the birds and animals could not under¬ 
stand the change that had come over the strange 
tree. 

The goldfinch did not sleep as late as the 
woodpeckers, for he did not believe in lying 
abed in the morning even if he had been up 
late the night before. When he saw that the 
tree no longer wore its skirt of xylophone keys 
he studied Snythergen curiously, hopping from 
twig to twig and pondering. He discovered 
that this tree was much warmer than the others 
—for the heavy tree suit made Snythergen very 
hot. The little bird wondered if the strange 
tree would not be a good place in which to build 
a winter home. This would save him going 
south every year. In place of a one-room nest, 
why not build a mansion? He flew away ex¬ 
citedly to draw up the plans. 

“At last I can enjoy a little peace,” murmured 
Snythergen and dozed off for a standing nap. 
When he awoke, it was with a start. “Stop bit¬ 
ing my toes,” he cried. Glancing down he saw 
—a pig! “He must be hungry,” thought he. 
“Well, I’ve eaten enough pig in my day. It 
would only be fair to let one of his kind have 
a bite of me. But I am thankful his teeth are 
not sharp. The bites feel like little pinches. 


SNYTHERGEN 


3 i 


I hope he is enjoying himself, but now he is be¬ 
ginning to damage my costume!” He gave a 
kick and the _pig jumped back, so frightened 
that his hair and his tail stood pompadour. He 
was pale and trembling and his little eyes grew 
big and round. 

“What in the world is the matter with that 
tree?” he exclaimed. “I thought it moved!” 

It was now Snythergen’s turn to be surprised. 
“Can he talk, the little rascal? Now how did 
a pig ever learn to talk? I must investigate.” 

Evidently the pig liked the taste of bark; and 
as Snythergen stood very still the pig’s courage 
returned. He approached the tree once more, 
and was just about to take a really good bite 
when Snythergen cried, “Don’t do that!” 

“Who said that?” cried the pig, startled. 

“Why, I did, of course.” 

“Who are you and where are you?” 

“Can’t you see, you simpleton!” said Snyther¬ 
gen. “I am the tree and I want you to stop bit¬ 
ing my roots.” 

The pig did not wait to hear more. So 
frightened was he that he ran away as fast as 
he could. 

“Come back,” shouted Snythergen, “come 
back after dark and we can visit without being 
seen.” 


32 


SNYTH ERGEN 


Soon the little finch returned with plans all 
drawn, and set to work to build in one of the 
strange tree’s branches. This made Snythergen 
anxious for he did not fancy having his limbs 
tangled up in nests. And when the finch flew 
farther than usual in search of thistle down, 
Snythergen strolled softly to an open space sev¬ 
eral hundred feet away behind a hillock. 

When the finch returned he could not find 
the tree. Nearly frantic he flew wildly about in 
circles; then darted across in diameters. Was 
he dreaming? He all but lost his reason and 
contracted a painfully stiff neck. “That tree 
must be somewhere!” he exclaimed, and turn¬ 
ing suddenly he would charge the spot where 
it had been, as if to take it by surprise. Then 
he described larger and larger circles until at 
length he came upon Snythergen’s hiding place. 

Joyfully he returned to his work careful this 
time not to let the tree out of his sight. It was 
now Snythergen’s turn to be perplexed. How 
was he to dodge that energetic nest builder! 
For every time he attempted to take to his roots 
there were those sharp little eyes regarding him. 

“No chance! That is the most suspicious 
goldfinch I ever saw!” he sighed. 

The nest was progressing alarmingly. The 
fuzzy material tickled Snythergen’s limb, and 



Snythergen cried, “Don’t do that!” 















































\ 


SNYTHERGEN 35 

every time he tried to rub it, the goldfinch was 
watching. 

“Is there no way to get rid of the little pest?” 
he groaned. “Can’t I ever get him to turn his 
back long enough for me to rub my itching 
limb? My, but he must love me, the way he 
keeps staring all the while! If this keeps up 
much longer I’ll get the St. Vitus’ dance.” 

He remembered that the finch had gone a 
long way off for milkweed silk and thistle down 
with which to line his nest, and it was while he 
was searching for these that Snythergen had had 
his chance to hide. 

“I’ll just pull out some of that fuzzy stuff 
and put it in my pocket the next time birdie 
turns his back,” he chuckled. “When he sees 
it is gone he will go for some more, and when 
he comes back—well, there won’t be any tree 
or any nest to welcome him!” 

This thought amused Snythergen so much 
that he almost gave himself away by laughing 
out loud. Luckily the finch thought it was a 
child in the woods and turned his back to see. 
And the moment he did so Snythergen jerked 
out most of the fuzzy stuff and put it into his 
pocket. When the finch saw the damage he was 
very much puzzled. 

“Bless my feathers! Now how in the world 


SNYTHERGEN 


36 

did that happen?” he said. “This place must 
be bewitched!” 

He looked around, painfully twisting his 
neck, then sat still on a branch for a long time, 
watching and thinking, but he failed to find a 
single clue leading to the cause of the damage. 
At length he gave it up and went to work to 
repair it. First he looked all around carefully, 
then dashed away to the place where the thistles 
grew, planning to grab a billful of down and fly 
back in the briefest possible time. But the mo¬ 
ment he was out of sight Snythergen took to his 
roots and ran toward the place where he had told 
the pig to meet him, tearing off his tree suit as he 
ran, and he had barely gotten out of it when 
the finch flew screeching by. 

“This time I fooled you,” thought Snyther¬ 
gen, as he stretched out on the ground for a nap. 











Tilil 1 LiiLl 





Si Imfl ■ 

mi 



iniy 



CHAPTER V 

HOW A PIG LEARNED TO TALK 

S NYTHERGEN dreamed that he was sit¬ 
ting on a pier, dangling his feet in the 
water. Little fishes were nibbling his 
toes, when suddenly a large one darted up and 
took a bite that hurt. Raising both feet 
quickly, he woke up. 

“You don’t need to be so rough,” said the 
pig, who had been bowled over by the raising 
of Snythergen’s feet and lay on his back, wav¬ 
ing his legs in the air. 

37 



































SNYTH ERGEN 


38 

“It’s you, is it! Up to your favorite trick of 
biting my toes! Well, it serves you right. Of 
course I am glad you like me, but I wish you 
would show your affection in some other way!’’ 

“Oh,” cried the pig. “So you were the 
strange tree that kicked me and spoke to me! 
I recognize you by the taste of your toes. But 
how was I to know that the last time I nibbled 
you, you were a tree,—unless I nibbled you 
again to find out?” 

“In that case, I’ll forgive you,” said Snyther- 
gen, “and I hope you’ll overlook the fright I 
gave you.” 

They lay on the ground side by side and gazed 
up at the stars. 

“Tell me, how did you learn to talk?” asked 
Snythergen. 

“The farmer’s wife taught me,” said the pig. 

“Why did she do that?” 

“Because I was hungry.” 

“That’s no reason. They give people food 
when they are hungry—they don’t teach them 
to talk.” 

“This woman did. She would not give me 
anything to eat until I learned to ask for it. 
And as I was nearly starving I learned rapidly,” 
said the pig. “As soon as I could ask for things 
I gained in weight, and when the farmer saw I 


SNYTHERGEN 39 

was getting fat he asked his wife to keep right 
on feeding me so that—” 

“Yes,” said Snythergen. 

“So that they could eat me for dinner!” 
faltered the pig, dashing a tear from his eye. 

“Then what did you do?” asked Snythergen. 

“I ate as little as possible until the farmer’s 
wife saw I was getting thin again. Then she 
told me to eat all I wanted and not to worry. 
She said she would manage somehow so—they 
would not have to—eat—me for dinner! I 
trusted her and after that enjoyed three good 
meals a day. You see she had taken a fancy to 
me because I kept myself looking neat, and tried 
to be gentlemanly. She called me ‘Squeaky’ 
and treated me like a child of her own. Little 
by little I began to understand what she said, 
and learned to talk. 

“One day the farmer’s wife was sitting by the 
window sewing. The farmer had gone to 
town. I trotted up as usual for a chat, but in¬ 
stead of chatting— 

“ ‘You must go away,’ she said, with a catch 
in her voice, ‘for my husband says we must have 
you—for—dinner—to-morrow!’ 

“She could hardly say the words. We looked 
at each other sadly. Then she took me in her 
arms and squeezed me so tightly I thought she 


40 


SNYTHERGEN 


would break my bones; and I would not have 
cared much if she had. To die in her arms 
would have been a happier lot than leaving her. 

“ ‘But surely I may come back some day,’ I 
managed to say, ‘or send for you when my for¬ 
tune is made.’ 

“ ‘I’m afraid not,’ she faltered. 

“I cannot tell you any more about our part¬ 
ing. It was too sad. Somehow I survived it— 
I suppose because I was young and the world 
lay before me. 

“A farmer’s buckboard approached in the 
rough lane, thumping over the frozen ruts, an¬ 
nouncing its coming long in advance. I hid in 
the cabbage-patch. The farmer’s wife stopped 
the vehicle and gossiped with the driver, to give 
me a chance to climb into the back and hide. 

“It was not easy to scramble up into the 
vehicle, for I was fat, and could not get a foot¬ 
hold. I tried using the spokes of the wheel as 
a ladder, but kept slipping and falling back. I 
knew one side of the wheel would go up and 
the other down when the wagon started, but 
could not figure out which side did which. 
However, I decided to take a chance. Taking 
a firm grip on one of the lower spokes I braced 
my feet on the one below it. It happened to 
be the right side of the wheel. So when the 


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Pf] 


4 i 

I 

i- -1. * 










' Jr« 

V ' 

f/ tlM* 

• 

.th< | 
*<*•« 


To die in her arms would have been a happier lot than leaving her 






















































































SNYTHERGEN 


43 

vehicle started the spoke I was holding to began 
to rise, carrying me up nearly to the top of the 
wagon. Bracing my legs, I gave a leap that 
landed me in the buckboard upon some empty 
potato sacks. Hurriedly selecting one I 
crawled into it. 

“The farmer thought he had heard something 
fall into the wagon, and stopping his horses, he 
glanced back. I was hidden by this time but 
he saw a bulging under the pile of sacks and 
was about to poke into them when I said, ‘Please, 
Mr. Smythers, let me stay here until we get 
by those boys in the road. I am hiding from 
them.’ 

“When he heard my voice Mr. Smythers, of 
course, took me for a boy and he answered: 
‘No, you cannot stay there. You will smother. 
Come out and I will protect you from the boys.’ 

“Receiving no reply he poked about among 
the sacks until he found the one I was in. 

“ ‘Why, it’s a pig in the bag instead of a boy!’ 
he cried in great surprise. ‘Well, I’ll soon fix 
him so he can’t get away!’ and he tied up the 
opening with a string. ‘But where is that boy 
that spoke to me just now?’ 

“Mr. Smythers looked under the wagon, 
searched both sides of the road, and even the 
trees, but of course found no one. Greatly per- 


SNYTHERGEN 


44 

plexed he got into his buckboard and drove on, 
glancing back every few minutes to see if there 
wasn’t a boy around somewhere. After he had 
driven about a mile he ceased looking around, 
and as we were going through a dense forest, I 
decided to try to escape. The bag I was in had 
a hole in it (that is why I had chosen it), and it 
was not difficult to make the opening larger by 
tearing the rotten threads. Little by little I 
squeezed myself out, and dropping off the back 
of the buckboard, fell in a heap in the road. 

“ ‘Now I am free,’ I thought, and I wandered 

deeper and deeper into the woods until I found 
_>> 













CHAPTER VI 

THE HOUSE AT THE END OF A ROPE 

U T T M’” sa ^ Snythergen when Squeaky 
I a had finished his tale, and for some 
time he remained silent. At last he 

spoke. 

“I think we had better build a house!” 
“Good,” said Squeaky, “but is this a safe 
place? Didn’t I see a bear in the crowd you 
attracted?” 

“Yes, but I don’t think he’ll come back. If 
he does my tree suit will save us. I can bend 
over until my limbs touch the ground. Then 

45 































































SNYTHERGEN 


46 

you can climb into my top branches and I’ll 
lift you out of danger. The bear will take me 
for a tree and leave us alone.” 

So they set to work very promptly. The 
plans they drew called for a round house. And 
to make sure it would be big enough for Snyther- 
gen, he lay on the ground curling up in the 
smallest space he could, and Squeaky traced a 
line around him in the dirt to mark the position 
of the outside wall. They planned to make 
the roof high enough for Snythergen when he 
was lying down, but of course he would be un¬ 
able to stand up or even to sit up without bump¬ 
ing his head on the ceiling. The outer circle 
just inside the wall was to be Snythergen’s bed¬ 
room, and Squeaky was to occupy the space in 
the middle. It took several weeks to build the 
house and before the paint was quite dry Sny¬ 
thergen spread pine boughs over the ground 
floor to make a soft place for them to lie. 

In the center of the roof was a hook to which 
was fastened a rope running up over a pulley 
attached to the top of a pine tree. From the 
other end of the rope hung a huge boulder, just 
as heavy as the house. The stone and the build¬ 
ing balanced each other so nicely that a little 
pull would send the house up or down. In 
the daytime the house was pulled up and left 



*< 3 he house tvas left dangling above ground to 

receive an airing out 






















SNYTH ERGEN 


47 

dangling above the ground to air out. At 
night when they went to bed Snythergen would 
lie down, bending himself into the exact shape 
of his bedroom by following a line marked out 
on the ground; and when he lay in just the 
right position so that the house when lowered 
would clear him, Squeaky would crawl over 
him into his little nest. Then Snythergen, 
reaching up, would pull the house down over 
their ears, making them snug and cozy for the 
night. 

While they had been at work on their new 
house a most persistent little bird had followed 
them around, perching on a near-by tree or 
bush. He appeared to listen to their words 
and moved his bill as if practicing the sounds; 
and sometimes he would make the strangest 
noises! Squeaky, always glad of a chance to 
visit, fell into the habit of talking to the bird. 
It did not occur to him that a goldfinch would 
not be able to understand; besides the little fel¬ 
low stood so still when Squeaky spoke to him 
he seemed to be taking it in. 

“Do you understand me?” Squeaky would 
ask impatiently. 

A strange sound not unlike “no” was the 
response. 

“Then you do understand!” said Squeaky. 


SNYTH ERGEN 


48 

“No,” it came unmistakably now. 

“Evidently the finch wants to learn to talk,” 
thought Squeaky, so he began to instruct him. 
He knew well how to set about it, for he had 
learned himself only with the greatest difficulty. 
He used the silent speech method—that is, he 
had the finch go through the motions of saying 
the words with his bill and throat, without act¬ 
ually making a sound. It was a good way to 
learn, but amusing to watch. The first day the 
goldfinch learned to make the motions for sev¬ 
eral words. When he did “cat” how he shud¬ 
dered and flapped his wings as if to fly away 
in a hurry. How his bill did water and what 
a hungry gleam came into his eyes when he did 
“worm”! 

Because his teacher would not permit sounds 
at first, the finch learned to put great feeling 
into his gestures and the expression of his face. 
And in time when he had learned to talk this 
assisted him greatly with animals and birds 
ignorant of the language. For those who did 
not understand what he said, knew what he 
meant by his gestures. After he had been in¬ 
structing the finch for a fortnight and had come 
to like him, Squeaky decided to ask Snyther- 
gen to invite the little bird to share their quar¬ 
ters. “He is such a sensible little bird,” 


SNYTH ERGEN 


49 

thought Squeaky, “if he behaves well to-mor¬ 
row, I’ll ask Snythergen’s permission then.” 

That was the day the house was completed 
and that night the owners were very tired. 
They slept soundly until three o’clock in the 
morning when something woke them. 

“What was that?” asked Squeaky in a shaky 
voice. 

“It sounded like a growl,” said Snythergen, 
and his trembling was so violent it shook the 
house. Thereafter no more sleep was possible 
for either, but the sound did not return. When 
morning came they investigated and found bear 
tracks leading to the door. 

“What shall we do?” asked Snythergen. 

As usual the finch was perched on a branch 
listening, standing so close to Snythergen’s ear 
that his wing rubbed against it. 

“Who’s tickling my ear?” said Snythergen, 
looking around. But the finch had hidden be¬ 
hind a leaf. 

“What do bears want?” asked Squeaky. 

“To make trouble, I guess,” said Snythergen. 

During the building of the house Snyther¬ 
gen had been so busy he had not even noticed 
Squeaky’s little friend. Now the finch wished 
to join in the conversation, for his teacher had 
just given him permission to speak out loud. 


SNYTHERGEN 


5 Q 

He wanted to celebrate his first spoken words 
by saying them at the top of his voice, so push¬ 
ing his little bill into Snythergen’s ear, he 
screamed: 

“Bears don’t want to make trouble, they 
want food!” 

Snythergen jumped as if a bee had stung 
him. 

“What was that!” cried he, looking around 
and seeing nothing. For again the finch had 
hopped behind a leaf. 

“It’s my good friend, the goldfinch,” said 
Squeaky. “I want you to meet him. I have 
been teaching him to talk, and you heard the 
first words he has spoken out loud. Don’t you 
think he did them rather well?” he asked, proud 
of his pupil. 

“If loudness is an indication I should say he 
did, most decidedly,” said Snythergen, whose 
ears were still ringing. “If he keeps on im¬ 
proving they can hear him in the next county!” 

“Come,” said Squeaky, looking around for 
the finch, “I want you to meet him.” At 
Squeaky’s request, the finch came out of his 
hiding place and was presented. 

“If it isn’t the little goldfinch!” exclaimed 
Snythergen in surprise, and he burst out laugh¬ 
ing. 


SNYTHERGEN 51 

“What are you laughing at?” asked the finch 
suspiciously. 

“I was just thinking how difficult it seems 
to be for some birds to find their way back to 
their nests,” said Snythergen. 

At this the sensitive bird flushed a brighter 
gold and hung his bill dejectedly. 

“I suppose trees look a good deal alike,” con¬ 
tinued Snythergen mockingly, “and that is why 
it is so hard to find the one your nest is in!” 

Too confused to answer, the finch made up 
his mind to question Squeaky when they were 
alone, and at the first opportunity told the pig 
of his adventure with the strange tree. When 
Squeaky explained that Snythergen had a cos¬ 
tume of bark, branches and leaves, the little 
bird understood how the “tree” had been able 
to hide from him, and why he had been unable 
to get any trace of his nest. Though he felt 
indignant about the way he had been treated, 
he decided for the present to say nothing and 
bide his time. 













CHAPTER VII 

BEAR ON ICE 

T HE goldfinch stayed close to his new 
friends and in the end they accepted 
him as one of them. They named him 
“Sancho Wing” and built him a little house on 
the roof of their new home. In many respects 
it was not unlike the permanent nest the bird 
had planned to build in one of the strange tree’s 
branches, but it was made of regular building 
materials—not woven of twigs and weeds— 
though Snythergen remembered Sancho Wing’s 

weakness for soft things, and caught and 

53 








































54 


SNYTHERGEN 


saved all the thistle down and milkweed silk that 
blew against his leaves to use for lining the walls 
and floors. The living rooms were down stairs, 
but in the garret above there was ample space in 
which the finch might store stray bits of string, 
odd twigs, and curious little things he found in 
the woods—for Sancho Wing was an eager col¬ 
lector of curiosities. But the most interesting 
thing about the house was its watch tower, which 
rose to a dizzy height—even for a bird. For it 
was intended as a lookout from which Sancho 
might keep a sharp watch for the bear. 

Sancho Wing was far too curious a little 
bird to sit quietly at home and wait for things 
to take their course. So, in addition to scan¬ 
ning the horizon daily for signs of the bear, 
he searched the forest over until he located 
the cave in which the beast lived, and actually 
flew into it. As it was getting dark and the 
beast was half asleep, he mistook the bird for a 
bat and paid no attention to him. Although 
very much frightened, Sancho hovered around 
until the brute’s heavy snoring indicated that 
he was fast asleep. Then hastening back he 
assured Snythergen and Squeaky they might 
now rest in peace, and retired to his own snug 
feather bed. 

The three friends had been living together 


SNYTH ERG EN 


55 

happily and unmolested by the bear for about 
a month, when one Sunday at daybreak Sancho 
Wing opened his eyes and wondered what had 
awakened him. He listened. There was a 
faint sound like the crackling of twigs. He 
winged a few hundred yards into the woods in 
the direction of the cave and saw the bear ap¬ 
proaching. Hastening back he pecked Sny- 
thergen until he opened his eyes. 

“The bear is coming! Get into your tree 
suit at once, it’s your only chance!” said Sancho. 

Snythergen pushed the house up out of the 
way and jumped out of bed, calling to the pig. 
But Squeaky would not wake up. He was 
too fond of sleep ever to allow himself to be 
disturbed before breakfast was on the table, 
and always he slept rolled into a ball, his head 
tucked under his body; and so tightly did he 
curl himself up that he kept this position no 
matter what any one did to him. Snythergen 
might have rolled him on the ground or tossed 
him into the air, without waking him. And 
had he done so Squeaky would have recounted 
these adventures afterwards as part of his 
dream. 

Therefore Snythergen did not waste time try¬ 
ing to wake Squeaky, but hastened to arrange 
himself in his tree suit. This done, he bent 


SNYTHERGEN 


56 

over and with his top branches picked Squeaky 
up and lifted him out of danger. Next he low¬ 
ered the house to the ground to make the bear 
think it was occupied, and took his position as 
a tree. Hardly had he shaken out his leaves 
and arranged his branches when the beast ar¬ 
rived. 

Casting an inquiring glance at the tree, the 
bear entered the house in search of food. He 
proceeded at once to the ice-box. Luckily (as it 
turned out) the door was open. Before leaving 
Snythergen had had the quick forethought to 
put a piece of cheese in his pocket and had neg¬ 
lected to close the ice-box door. When the bear 
had eaten up everything that was handy, he 
pushed his head far into one of the smaller 
compartments of the box to reach a last morsel 
of jam he had been unable to get before. This 
time he succeeded and, licking his lips, at¬ 
tempted to pull his head out. 

He pulled and he pulled but he could not 
pull his head out. It was caught in the open¬ 
ing, and the harder he strained, the more firmly 
the ice-box became attached to him. He 
growled and he gnashed his teeth. He stood 
on his hind legs and pounded the ice-box against 
the walls, until Snythergen and Sancho Wing 
feared he would knock the house down. 


SNYTHERGEN 


57 

Through a window Sancho saw the bear brac¬ 
ing himself for a mighty blow which, if al¬ 
lowed to land, would surely break through the 
wall. 

“Quick, quick, pull the house up!” he called. 

Grasping the rope with the twigs of a lower 
limb, Snythergen gave it a jerk. And just as 
the brute was delivering a terrific blow the 
house shot up and the bear’s effort spent itself 
in the air harmlessly, except that the big fellow 
was thrown sprawling to the ground, with a 
force that twisted his neck painfully. 

For the moment Snythergen and Sancho 
Wing forgot their own fears to laugh at the 
beast’s comical state. Undoubtedly he was the 
most surprised bear in the whole world. Think¬ 
ing himself still inside of the house (for who¬ 
ever heard of a house running away!), he felt 
about for the walls, but there were no walls 
there! The ice-box fastened to his head, 
blinded him. Back and forth he stumbled, 
groping in every direction. And the pound¬ 
ing of the heavy box on the ground was giving 
him a splitting headache. 

After he had pulled the house up Snythergen 
was not at all pleased to find the bear had eaten 
up all of their food. And now he beheld the 
intruder in a rage, bent on breaking their new 


SNYTHERGEN 


58 

ice-box: He was so indignant, his branches 
fairly itched to punish the clumsy brute. And 
the moment the bear was in a favorable position 
Snythergen crept softly behind him, stripped the 
leaves and twigs from one of his stoutest limbs 
and gave the beast a sound thrashing. As the 
blows fell fast and heavy the bear yelled like a 
sick puppy. But Snythergen closed his ears 
to the sound, and not until he was out of breath 
and perspiring did he conclude the brute had 
had enough. Then his kind heart was touched, 
for with the headache and the spanking, the bear 
was aching and smarting at both ends. 

“At least I can relieve his headache,” thought 
Snythergen, bending over to examine the ice¬ 
box. There was still ice in one of the compart¬ 
ments. Removing a piece Snythergen was able 
to crowd it in against the bear’s head, and in 
spite of the brute’s wiggling, placed it so it 
rested against his forehead. Very gently the 
beast settled down on his aching haunches, to 
let the ice cool his throbbing brow. The ice-box 
was still attached to him as securely as ever. 
Apparently he had given up trying to free him¬ 
self. But the bear was not to rest in peace for 
long. His head recently so hot now became 
freezing cold. And the pain of it drove him 
into a frenzy. Snythergen and Sancho were 



“At least I can relieve his headache” 
















































































































SNYTH ERGEN 


61 

i 

about to come to his assistance when he charged 
blindly forward and a lucky jump was all that 
saved Snythergen from a fatal collision. The 
bear rushed back and forth beating the ice-box 
against the rocks and trees, not minding how it 
hurt his neck and shoulders. His one desire 
was to relieve the terrible freezing in his brain. 

Snythergen quite understood all the bear’s 
thoughts and now decided that the big fellow 
had been punished enough. Grasping the rope 
from which the boulder dangled, and swinging 
it around his head, he brought it down squarely 
upon the ice-box. This well-aimed blow split 
open the box, freeing the bear’s head, but the 
door frame still clung about his neck—an ab¬ 
surd collar. 

Stunned, lame, and aching, the poor bear 
crawled into the sunlight to thaw out his brain 
and to melt his frost-bitten thoughts. But the 
sun did not melt his hard heart or calm his 
rising indignation. He looked about angrily 
for his persecutors. He strode threateningly 
up to one tree after another, but they all stood 
very still and wore the innocent look that comes 
natural to trees. Snythergen, however, had not 
been a tree long enough to look as unconcerned 
as the others; besides he had a guilty conscience. 

- The bear may have smelled the cheese in 


62 


SNYTHERGEN 


Snythergen’s pocket, or maybe something un¬ 
usual in his appearance made the beast suspect 
him, for he came up and walked around and 
around the tree until poor Snythergen was dizzy ] 
following with his eyes, and so frightened he 
could hardly stand. Uneasily he swayed from 
side to side, catching his balance just in time 
to avoid a fall. The bear stopped, rubbed his 
nose on Snythergen’s bark, dug a claw into it. 
And Snythergen could not avoid a cry of pain. 
Sancho Wing saw the danger his pals were in, 
and realized that something must be done 
quickly if they were to be saved. 

“Throw the cheese to him!” cried the little 
bird. Snythergen tossed it on the ground a few 
yards away and the bear followed it eagerly, 
gulping it down in one mouthful. Sancho 
Wing thought he heard woodchoppers in the 
distance and flew away to summon help. Soon 
he found two men with axes and a rifle, and hid¬ 
ing in some leaves, he called to them: 

“Hello, hunters! there is a bear over there 
near that shaking tree. Follow the sound of 
my voice and you will easily find the place.” 

The men were simple fellows, only too eager 
to follow Sancho as he darted through the leaves 
calling: “This way, this way!” They could 
not see who was calling but supposed it was a 


SNYTHERGEN 63 

little boy who was keeping out of sight for fear 
of the bear. Now that help was near, in the 
midst of his anxiety Sancho could not avoid 
chuckling. For he had thought of a way to get 
even with Snythergen for the tricks he had 
played on him about the nest. As he hurried 
along he told the woodsmen, after driving away 
the bear to cut down a certain tree. “You will 
know it by the sleeping pig in its top branches,” 
he said. Just then the bear saw the huntsmen 
approaching and he did not wait for them to 
come up, but made tracks before they could get 
a shot at him. 




























: r* 






CHAPTER VIII 

A RUNAWAY TREE 

S NYTHERGEN gave a sigh of relief when 
the bear went away and was just about 
to step out and un-bark, when he heard 
voices. 

“This is the tree we are to chop down!” 
Snythergen heard one of them say, and already 
the woodchopper was swinging his axe. Snyth¬ 
ergen did not wait for the blow to land, but 
leaped into the air and was off as fast as his roots 
would carry him. To be sure, he was ham¬ 
pered by his leaves and his branches and his 

65 


















66 


SNYTHERGEN 


sheath bark skirt. Brushing none too gently 
against bushes and trees he trod on the toes of 
innumerable growing things. Apologizing 
with his bows to right and left, he did not pause 
even to see what damage he had done, nor did 
he know he had stepped heavily on the roots of 
an oak, or rubbed the shins of a birch. He 
knew only that two woodsmen were after him, 
threatening to chop him into kindling wood. 

“Did you ever see such a rude tree?” cried 
a graceful elm suffering from a broken limb. 
“And it’s so untreelike to run away like that! 
Suppose the rest of us did likewise—what would 
become of the forest!” 

“If he is restless, I don’t object to his walking 
about in a gentlemanly manner,” said the birch 
whose shins had been rubbed, “as long as he 
picks his steps carefully; but to go slamming 
through regardless of the rest of us is most in¬ 
considerate!” 

There was much bobbing of tree-tops and 
angry shaking of limbs in the direction the run¬ 
away tree had taken. But Snythergen might 
have saved himself running so far and so fast, 
had he taken the trouble to look around. For 
the hunters were not following but standing 
still, astonished at the spectacle of a tree racing 
through the forest at break-limb speed. In all 


SNYTHERGEN 67 

the years they had lived in the woods never 
had they seen a runaway tree before. 

“Is the forest going crazy?” cried one. 
“What if all the trees were to run after us like a 
herd of buffalo! What chance would we have 
of escape?” 

The mere thought of it was so terrifying they 
turned and ran, leaving coats, rifle, and axes 
where they lay, and they did not stop until they 
were well out of the woods and safe in their own 
home, behind locked doors and windows. And 
they did not stir abroad for two days. 

When Sancho Wing saw the hunters and 
Snythergen running away from each other in 
opposite directions, it was too much for him. 
He laughed and laughed, and shook so that he 
fell from the limb he was perched on, and only 
saved himself from a bad fall by using his wings. 

“Surely I have paid Snythergen now for all 
of his tricks,” he cried merrily. 

During all this time Squeaky actually had re¬ 
mained asleep in Snythergen’s top branches, 
though his rest had been somewhat uneven. 

“Where am I?” he cried, rubbing his eyes 
and waking up to find himself violently tossed 
about, and bumped against the branches of trees 
as Snythergen crashed through the forest. 

With a breathless word here and there as he 


68 


SNYTH ERGEN 


ran, Snythergen gave the pig an idea of what 
had happened, and when Squeaky realized all 
the dangers he had slept through, he lost his grip 
and would have fallen had Snythergen not 
• tightened his hold. On and on ran the tree, 
stumbling and reeling, and with every lurch 
Squeaky’s little heart quivered; for tree-riding 
was as terrifying as hanging to the top of a mast 
in a storm at sea. What a relief when Snyther¬ 
gen slowed up and stopped at the shore of a 
lake, panting like a' porpoise! 

“I think you had better get down now,” said 
Snythergen, “for I am going to wade across that 
lake and plant myself in the farmer’s yard on 
the other side. I shall remain there until the 
woodchoppers get tired of looking for me. I 
believe my leg is cut. Will you look on the 
ground and see if I am bleeding?” 

“I guess your leg isn’t bleeding,” said 
Squeaky after looking around, “for I don’t see 
any sawdust.” 

“Would you mind running home now, 
Squeaky, just to see that Sancho Wing is all 
right? I am a little worried about him. But 
if you will come back to this spot twice a day 
I will signal across the lake to let you know how 
I am getting on.” 

Very much shaken Squeaky limped home 


SNYTHERGEN 


69 

following the broad trail Snythergen had made 
through the woods, and found Sancho Wing 
still chuckling. After talking over their adven¬ 
ture for a little while they settled themselves for 
a nap. 

As soon as Squeaky left him, Snythergen 
waded into the lake. He found the cool water 
refreshing to his overheated roots and tattered 
branches, but when he bent over to drink he 
came near losing his balance and floating away. 

Only while he stood erect and kept in shallow 
water did his roots find a firm footing on the 
bottom of the lake. With much splashing of 
water and stirring of mud, and by wading 
around the deep places he managed to cross. 
When no one was looking, he crept into the 
farmer’s yard, where he hoped to find an end to 
his troubles. After looking the place over, he 
decided to plant himself where he would shade 
the dining-room window and could see what 
the family had for dinner. It occurred to him 
that if he became very hungry, he might reach 
through the window and help himself to a mor¬ 
sel of food. “Turn about is fair play,” he 
reasoned. “If I provide shade for them, they 
should not begrudge me a bite to eat now and 
then!” 

Luckily the farmer and his wife were away 


70 


SNYTHERGEN 


at camp meeting when Snythergen arrived, and 
when they returned, it was dark. A crescent 
moon and the stars revealed but a dusky outline 
of the place. 

“Somehow things don’t look natural around 
here,” said the farmer when he reached home. 
“The place seems changed, swelled out! Why, 
I believe the house has got the mumps!” 

“Silas, you don’t think baby has the mumps, 
do you?” cried his wife, thinking he must be 
referring to their child. 

“No, no, it’s the house that’s got the mumps,” 
said the farmer. 

“Nonsense, Silas, you must be out of your 
mind!” she said. She saw nothing out of the 
way, for her eyes sought only the windows of 
a room on the other side of the house where her 
small son had been left, and nothing more was 
said about the matter that night. 












CHAPTER IX 

THE DOCTOR DISCOVERS A TREE WITH 
ST. VITUS’ DANCE 

T HE next morning the discovery of a new 

tree in the farmer’s yard caused great 

surprise. At first the people were awed 

and afraid, and some were a little suspicious. 

Indeed, Snythergen had to stand very stiff and 

still and put on his very best tree manners to 

make them believe he was a real tree. He was 

watched so closely that he scarcely dared to 

breathe, and he feared the cool breeze from the 

lake might make him cough, for already he had 

71 











72 


SNYTH ERGEN 


a slight cold from wading in the chilly water 
the day before. Once or twice he nearly ex¬ 
ploded trying to hold in a sneeze. But the peo¬ 
ple on the ground saw only his top branches 
tossing and thought it due to an upper current 
of air. 

Then an adventurous boy began climbing his 
trunk, and Snythergen thought surely the little 
fellow would feel his heart beat. But the child 
only climbed higher and higher, venturing out 
on a high limb which Snythergen held inse¬ 
curely with the thumb and forefinger of his left 
hand. It had been difficult to support the 
branch alone and keep it from swaying, but with 
the heavy boy on it Snythergen found it almost 
impossible. The perspiration stood out on 
every bough. His left arm became so tired it 
pained him dreadfully, and it took all his 
strength to keep from dropping it to his side. 
He knew that he could not hold it out much 
longer, and yet if he let the branch drop the boy 
would be dashed to the ground and perhaps 
cruelly hurt. In spite of all he could do he was 
horrified to see the limb settling slowly down¬ 
ward and he closed his eyes to shut out the ca¬ 
tastrophe that seemed sure to follow. Suddenly 
there was a cry from below. 

“Get right down out of that tree,” called the 


SNYTHERGEN 


73 


mother of the boy. Snythergen braced him¬ 
self to hold on a moment longer, and just as the 
boy reached his trunk, the branch fell to his 
side. Snythergen breathed a prayer of thanks¬ 
giving. The child soon was safe on the ground. 

Snythergen thought the people in the farmer’s 
yard curious and watchful, but he was mistaken. 
He was soon to learn what real curiosity and 
watchfulness are like. Some one had sent for 
a famous tree doctor, and he came promptly to 
look Snythergen over. When he appeared 
Snythergen put on his most correct forest be¬ 
havior and really was a model tree, for the doc¬ 
tor’s benefit. 

“I can’t see anything unusual about that tree,” 
said the physician, unpacking his instrument 
case. Snythergen was holding out his branches 
gracefully and letting his leaves flutter naturally 
in the breeze. The doctor spread his shining 
wood-carving tools out on a cloth on the ground. 
Much as the little man knew about trees, he 
had never learned to climb one, and the farmer 
had to fetch him a long ladder before he could 
make his examination. 

When the little man had mounted well up 
toward the top of Snythergen he placed a fever 
thermometer in a knothole, which happened to 
lead into Snythergen’s mouth. Leaving it there 


SNYTHERGEN 


74 

he descended to the ground, and wrapped a rub¬ 
ber bandage about his trunk, winding it so 
tightly that Snythergen barely avoided a cry of 
pain. One look at the indicator gave the tree 
doctor a shock. 

“Sap pressure no!” he cried. “There must 
be some mistake!” 

Again and again he tried it and each time 
it registered no. 

“Surely there is something very strange here!” 
said the doctor. “Never have I heard of a tree 
with a sap pressure over 30. Why, it’s as high 
as the blood pressure of a boy!” 

But the tree doctor was to receive another 
shock when he tapped Snythergen’s bark and 
listened with a tree stethoscope. 

“Why, I didn’t think there was a tree in the 
world with such a violent throb. It’s as fast 
and strong as the heart beat of a child!” 

But the greatest shock of all was to come 
when he climbed up to read the fever ther¬ 
mometer. He could hardly believe his own eyes 
when he saw what it registered. 

“I never heard of a tree having such a temper¬ 
ature !” he cried. “It is as high as a boy’s.” In¬ 
deed the temperature was so much like a boy’s, 
the little doctor so far forgot himself as to shout: 

“Stick out your tongue!” 





























SNYTHERGEN 77 

This command took Snythergen by surprise, 
and without thinking, he stuck his tongue out 
through the knothole, and when the little man 
saw it, he was so frightened he nearly fell from 
the ladder. Snythergen drew back his tongue 
in a hurry. The doctor puzzled and puzzled 
over the matter. Finally he concluded that he 
must have seen a squirrel’s red head. 

There were so many strange things about the 
tree that the physician made up his mind in the 
interest of science to watch it day and night. 
He camped in a tent beside Snythergen, and 
only when he retired for a cat nap did he take 
his owl-like eyes from the tree. Even then Sny¬ 
thergen could not attempt to escape, or even 
stretch his limbs and relax, for the little man 
was a light sleeper and would rush out at the 
faintest unusual rustle of a twig. 

Snythergen realized more than ever that the 
life of a tree is not all joy. His roots were sore 
and calloused from standing in one position. 
A leg or an arm would go to sleep because he 
dared not move it. He was numb all over, be¬ 
sides being cold, tired and hungry. He gazed 
longingly into the dining room. His mouth 
watered and he swallowed hard at the sight of 
the rich home cooking. How eagerly would he 


SNYTHERGEN 


78 

have eaten the crusts the farmer’s little boy tried 
to hide under the edge of his plate! How he 
would have enjoyed taking the heaping plate of 
his tormentor, the little doctor, when the latter’s 
back was turned! But usually the window was 
closed, or some one was looking. 

All the next morning Snythergen watched im¬ 
patiently for Squeaky to appear on the opposite 
shore of the lake. He wondered why Sancho 
Wing did not come, but he could not know that 
Sancho was spending all of his time keeping 
track of the bear, who was in a revengeful mood 
and very restless. The ice had given him men¬ 
tal chilblains and the pain served as a reminder, 
making him more determined than ever to find 
and punish his persecutors. 

About eleven o’clock Snythergen thought he 
saw a little movement in the bushes along the 
opposite shore of the lake. Then he recognized 
Squeaky’s peculiar wobbling walk. So de¬ 
lighted was he that he forgot the little doctor, 
and waved his branches excitedly. Squeaky 
answered. Snythergen signaled back that he 
was hungry and wanted some bread and butter 
with sugar on it—not an easy message for a tree 
to wave to a pig all the way across a lake. It 
took ingenuity to figure it out, and this is how 
he did it. 


SNYTHERGEN 


79 


First Snythergen held out two limbs and pre¬ 
tended he was carrying a slice of bread in each 
hand. Next he rubbed an upper branch over 
these in such a way that Squeaky would know 
he wanted them spread with butter—and not to 
save on the butter. Then he bent his top 
boughs down, shaking them vigorously to make 
the pig understand that he wanted all the 
powdered sugar the bread would hold. 

The little tree doctor was watching this per¬ 
formance with the utmost amazement. 

“Why, I believe that tree has the St. Vitus’ 
Dance!” said the physician. “I never heard of 
a tree having it before. The discovery will 
make me famous. But I must prove it beyond 
a doubt or the scientists will never give me credit 
for it. In order to be sure I must give it the 
brass band test for that is the only reliable one. 
If our leafy friend here dances when the band 
plays I will know then that he has the St. Vitus’ 
Dance. If he does not, I may have to ‘tree-pan’ 
him to find out.” 

Snythergen shuddered at the horrible thought 
of being trepanned—or in other words of 
having his skull operated on so his brain could 
be examined. As he talked to himself the lit¬ 
tle man danced excitedly about. 

“The fit seems to be over,” he said breath- 


8o 


SNYTHERGEN 


lessly, when Snythergen had waved his last 
signal to Squeaky. 

“Dinner is ready,” called the farmer’s wife 
from the house. 

“I will be right in," answered the doctor, 
for he had decided to wait until he had eaten 
before going for the musicians. 

The chance of running away to meet Squeaky 
and bread and butter had become more and 
more doubtful now the little doctor had seen 
him waving, and Snythergen was so hungry! 
He looked in through the dining-room window 
to see what the family was having to eat. It 
was a very hot day and the window was wide 
open. The farmer was placing a steaming 
plate of meat and potatoes before the doctor, 
who sat facing the window where he could 
watch the tree while he ate. The rich odor of 
food arose to Snythergen’s nostrils and it was 
more than he could resist. 

“I must have something soon, or I’ll fall 
over,” he said to himself. “I wonder how I 
can manage it?” For a moment he thought, 
then an idea came to him. Leaning over, with 
his top branches he beat violently upon the 
roof of the house. 

“What’s happening upstairs!” cried the farm¬ 
er’s wife in alarm. 


SNYTH ERGEN 


81 


“It sounds as if the roof was falling in!” 
said the farmer leaping from his chair, and 
they rushed out of the room. In his excite¬ 
ment the doctor followed part wav upstairs. 
The instant he was gone Snythergen reached 
a forked limb into the dining room and helped 

himself to the doctor’s dinner. 

* 

“He will never miss it,” he thought. “He’s 
too excited to eat, anyway.” 

When the physician returned and found his 
dinner had disappeared, he was dumbfounded. 

“What has become of it?” he cried, jumping 
up and looking under the table. He searched 
behind the chairs, in the closets, and even in 
the hall. In each new place he cried out over 
and over again, “Who took my dinner? Who 
took my dinner?” 

While he was thus occupied Snythergen had 
an opportunity to eat, but he was in such haste 
to be done before his tormentor looked out of 
the window again, that he entirely forgot his 
table manners and crammed and stuffed his 
mouth with his twigs. The farmer and his wife 
had found nothing out of the way upstairs to 
explain the noise on the roof, and when they 
returned the little man was still fussing about, 
looking in the china closet, the napkin and silver 
drawers, and other absurd places. 


82 


SNYTH ERGEN 


“What’s up now?” demanded the farmer, 
who was getting a bit tired of the tree doctor’s 
queer ways. The farmer’s wife too was look¬ 
ing on suspiciously. She did not fancy having 
a stranger poking into her drawees and closets. 

The physician tried to explain but they only 
laughed at him. 

“The very idea!” cried the farmer’s wife. 
“Nobody could come into the room and take 
your dinner away without your knowing it!” 

“Besides, who would want something to eat 
that bad around here,” said the farmer. “Every¬ 
body knows we feed every tramp that comes 
along!” 

The little doctor felt uncomfortable and em¬ 
barrassed because they laughed at him, and he 
barely touched the second plate of food the 
farmer served him. Snythergen was right, he 
was too excited to eat. Scarcely could he wait 
until the dinner was over for the farmer to drive 
him to town to get the band. 

The doctor’s departure was Snythergen’s cue 
to escape. Cautiously he stole away from the 
house and waited for an opportunity to cross 
the lake. The man next door was plowing, and 
Snythergen had to be very careful. While the 
man’s back was turned he ran as fast as pos¬ 
sible, but when he plowed toward him, Snyther- 



Thereafter he would strike a tree-like pose not so difficult to hold 






























/ 




SNYTHERGEN 85 

gen had to stand motionless and trust that his 
altered position would not be seen; and what¬ 
ever position Snythergen’s limbs were in when 
the farmer turned toward him, had to be held 
while the plow traveled the whole length of the 
field. Once when the man approached, Sny- 
thergen was in the lake with one root raised 
ready to step, and he dared not lower his root 
or make anv other movement until the farmer 
had walked the whole distance and had turned 
his back again. Thus he stood balancing him¬ 
self for fifteen minutes, and to make matters 
worse he had been caught with his branches 
pointing to the sky. The painful experience 
of holding this position taught him a lesson, 
and thereafter when the plow’ neared the end of 
the row, he would strike a tree-like pose not so 
difficult to hold. Luckily the farmer was near¬ 
sighted, and failed to remark the strange appari¬ 
tion of a tree wading across the lake up to its 
branch pits in water. 

In spite of various discomforts Snythergen 
made the crossing successfully and had no diffi¬ 
culty in following the trail home. On reach¬ 
ing the house he found Sancho Wing and 
Squeaky feverishly preparing the bread and but¬ 
ter and sugar to take to him. They were over¬ 
joyed to see him, but Snythergen was too tired 


86 


SNYTH ERGEN 


to sit up and visit. He had been standing on 
his roots so long he was only too glad to lie 
down and sleep. But before he would close 
his eyes, they had to assure him that the wood- 
choppers had left the forest. 




































CHAPTER X 

THE BEAR SEES THE “GRASSHOPPER PIG,” 
HEARS THE “HUNTSMEN” AND IS 
PRESENT AT THE “ESCAPE” 

W HEN Snythergen woke up, Sancho 
Wing was sorry to have to tell him 
that the bear had resumed his mid¬ 
night prowlings and might call upon them at 
any time. 

“We must prepare to defend ourselves,” said 
Sancho wisely, as he perched on Snythergen’s 
ear. 

“How can a pig defend himself from a bear?” 

87 





88 


SNYTHERGEN 


asked Squeaky, absent-mindedly biting one of 
Snythergen’s toes. 

“Simple,” said Sancho. “Give him what he 
wants. You flatter yourself if you think he 
wants you. He is after food, that is all.” 

“Well, let us give it to him,” said Snythergen, 
“as long as he doesn’t share Squeaky’s weakness 
for toes.” 

“Just what I was thinking,” said Sancho. 
“Let us set a bear lunch every night, and to 
make sure he will find it we must spread it in 
a circle around the house. Then, no matter 
from what direction the bear approaches, he 
will find something to eat across his path.” 

“I’ve heard that round foods make people 
fat,” said Snythergen. “Maybe food served on 
a round table will make the bear fat.” 

“That wouldn’t help us any,” said Sancho 
Wing, “for fat bears are as dangerous as lean 
ones.” 

“Won’t it be pretty expensive boarding a 
bear?” asked Squeaky. 

“Of course,” said Sancho Wing, “but if we 
find we can’t afford to feed him we can build 
an airplane and journey to a land where there 
are no bears. We may have to travel to the 
end of the sky to find such a place, but who 
cares?” 


SNYTH ERGEN 


89 

At Sancho Wing’s suggestion Snythergen set 
to work at once to build a supper table. When 
completed it encircled the house and resembled 
a well planed sidewalk. That night Squeaky 
set the table, being careful to spread the food 
so thin that it went all the way around. 

There were so many hungry beings in the for¬ 
est besides the bear that Sancho Wing had to 
keep a keen look-out for thieves, and his duties 
kept him very busy. One minute he would be 
scanning the woods from the top of his tower, 
the next he would dive down to the round table 
to scream at the small animals that were forever 
nibbling. Often he was obliged to call Squeaky 
and even Snythergen, to chase away the larger 
birds, the rabbits, and the squirrels. Each 
night they set the table as late as they dared 
to prevent so much of the food being stolen. 

On the evening of the fourth day the bear 
paid them a call, but he did not attempt to enter 
the house. The lunch on the round table 
stopped him. Walking all the way around he 
ate everything, then went around again to see 
if he had overlooked any crumbs. Squeaky hap¬ 
pened to be very fussy about table manners, and 
he had scattered salad forks, finger bowls and 
napkins here and there hoping the bear would 
take the hint; but the big beast paid no attention 


90 


SNYTH ERGEN 


to them, and ate only with his knife and his 
paws in the most vulgar manner. 

The bear was a hearty eater and what made 
matters even more serious, his appetite was 
growing. Soon it was evident that the food sup¬ 
ply would not last much longer. The three 
friends realized that the “outer works” as they 
called the lunch table, was all that stood be¬ 
tween them and disaster. And now in spite of 
their efforts they were unable to keep abreast 
of the beast’s increasing desire for food. There 
was nothing to do but to adopt Snythergen’s 
plan of building an airplane and fleeing to a 
land where there were no bears. They began 
work immediately and hurried all they could, 
but even so thev ran out of food when there was 

«r 

still another day’s work to be done on the plane. 

“If we can only keep him away to-night we 
are saved,” said Squeaky. 

Snythergen dressed in his tree suit to be ready 
in case of trouble. Carefully Squeaky set the 
round table with what few morsels he could 
scrape up, arranging them to appear like a 
bountiful meal. The bear came a little earlier 
than usual that night, and made short work of 
the slim repast. Indeed Snythergen had just 
time to tiptoe out and take his place as a tree 
when the beast devoured the last bite of food 



Then went around again to see if he had overlooked any crumbs 




































































\ 


SNYTH ERGEN 


93 

and looked hungrily about for more. In a 
stage whisper Snythergen called to Squeaky who 
was still in the house, to warn him of his danger. 
Fortunately the pig was awake and whispered 
back that he was coming. A moment later Sny¬ 
thergen heard the most awful squealing and 
Squeaky came running out, the bear after him. 
Sancho Wing was flying above the pig to en¬ 
courage him. 

“Don’t squeal so! Save your breath for run¬ 
ning!” he cried. The bear was gaining. 
Bending over Snythergen touched his roots with 
his top limbs, to be ready. But Squeaky was 
slow on his feet, even when running for his 
life, and already the bear was upon him. Sure 
of his prey the great beast slowed up to brace 
himself for a lunge. Quick as lightning Sny¬ 
thergen shot out his branches and grabbed the 
pig, lifting him to safety. 

The bear did not suspect that a tree could 
come to the rescue of a pig, and so sure was he 
that his victim could not escape, he closed his 
eyes as he struck at him. But he opened them 
quickly enough when his paw struck nothing 
solider than air. The pig had vanished! But 
where, and how? His disappearance had been 
as sudden as it was complete, and the bear had 
not an idea where to look for him. Too sur- 


94 


SNYTH ERGEN 


prised for growls, the big brute rushed dis¬ 
tractedly about looking here and there. Natu¬ 
rally it did not occur to him to look up into the 
tree tops, for whoever heard of a pig climbing 
a tree! 

“Did I really see a pig at all?” thought the 
bear, “or am I losing my mind! It wouldn’t be 
surprising with that neuralgia from the ice!” 

He paused as the thought struck him: “I 
wonder if by any possibility it could have been 
the Grasshopper Pig?” 

The day before the bear had been reading the 
story of the Grasshopper Pig to a neighbor’s 
cubs out of a book of nursery rhymes called 
“Mother Moose.” This pig seemed to disap¬ 
pear in much the same way as the one in the 
story. For the Grasshopper Pig is said to make 
long leaps so suddenly that he cannot be seen 
making them. One moment he is standing be¬ 
side you and the next, bingo! he is a hundred 
feet away! 

“Well, if it’s the Grasshopper Pig, I might as 
well save myself the bother of looking,” thought 
the bear; “no one has ever been able to catch 
him!” 

As he came to the place where Snythergen 
was standing he sniffed curiously, and although 


SNYTHERGEN 


95 


Snythergen did his best to stand still, it is not 
surprising that he failed. For it takes some¬ 
thing stronger than flesh and blood to stand still 
while a bear walks around you and stops to paw 
your bark, to rub his hungry head against your 
trunk, or to try his vicious teeth on your roots. 

No wonder the trunk of the tree trembled and 
its branches twitched nervously. The big ani¬ 
mal was puzzled by the shaking as he nosed 
about Snythergen’s extremities and clawed at 
them. It was more than wood and sap could 
stand and the badly frightened boy was weaken¬ 
ing rapidly. Again Snythergen felt the sink¬ 
ing feeling that had come over him the day the 
small boy had crawled out on an upper branch. 
Tottering from side to side, he caught himself 
with an effort. 

For a while Squeaky managed somehow to 
hold on with his teeth and legs, but his teeth were 
chattering and he was shivering all over with 
terror. And a sudden twist of the tree shook 
him so violently that he lost his footing. Des¬ 
perately he reached for a limb. He missed it, 
and fell crashing through the branches! 

With remarkable quickness of thought Snyth¬ 
ergen brought his lower limbs together to form 
a basket in which to catch the falling pig. 


SNYTHERGEN 


96 

Plunging through the branches Squeaky landed 
upon Snythergen’s leafy chest, safe for the time 
being, but stunned and out of breath. 

“It is the Grasshopper Pig,” cried the bear, 
seeing him, “and I’ve got him up a tree!” 

Eager to get at Squeaky, he pawed Snyther¬ 
gen’s tender bark and pushed against him 
roughly. 

All this time Sancho Wing’s little brain had 
been puzzling to find some way to save his pals. 
Flying a little distance and hiding among the 
leaves he hallooed at the top of his piping voice, 
hoping the woodchoppers might be in the forest, 
and hear him. Anxiously the bear glanced 
around. The hallooing reminded him of the 
sound the hunters made, and thinking best not 
to take any chances he strolled away cautiously. 

The three friends breathed a sigh of relief and 
Squeaky began to dance for joy. 

“We haven’t escaped yet,” Sancho Wing re¬ 
minded him. “The bear will return when he 
discovers the hunters are not after him. We 
must finish the airplane immediately.” 

At once they resumed work and kept at it 

until the plane was completed. And now it 

needed onlv to be tested. It was new and stiff 

¥ 

and repeatedly the engine refused to start, 
though Snythergen cranked it again and again. 


SNYTH ERGEN 


97 

It was nearing the bear’s lunch time and Sancho 
Wing flew away to the cave to see what the big 
brute was up to. Soon he came back out of 
breath, panting so hard he could scarcely speak, 
for he had raced all the way. 

“Quick, quick!” he gasped. 

Snythergen and Squeaky understood and 
Snvthergen cranked so furiously he was wet 
through with perspiration. 

“Let me try it,” urged Squeaky impatiently 
when Snythergen had to rest a moment to get 
breath, and the pig grasped the crank and pulled 
with all his strength. But he had turned it only 
half way round when it flew back, and sent him 
sprawling. Sancho, who had flown back to 
keep track of the bear, now darted up to report 
him only a few hundred yards away. 

“Crank as if your life depended on it!” he 
cried. 

Frantically the little bird flew back and forth 
to tell them each time how much nearer the bear 
had come. Snythergen was cranking mightily 
while Squeaky piled in what scanty luggage 
could be collected in a jiffy. 

“He’s almost here!” groaned Sancho Wing. 

Snythergen heard the crackling of sticks un¬ 
der the brute’s feet. “It’s now or never,” 
thought he, putting all his strength into one last 


SNYTHERGEN 


98 

pull. The engine gave a sickly “pop.” Snyth- 
ergen’s heart sank. But there was another lit¬ 
tle “pop.” Others followed slowly, then more 
rapidly. Now the explosions were in quick 
succession. The engine was running! The 
three scrambled aboard. The airplane coasted 
down hill and rose gently from the ground. 
They were saved. 














CHAPTER XI 

THE JOURNEY TO THE WREATH—A SPIN IN A 
HUMMING-TOP—AN UNKNOWN 

FRIEND 

T HE plane had to be an exceedingly large 
one to accommodate Snythergen’s great 
length. With much squirming he man¬ 
aged to get out of his tree suit, and now he lay 
face down, his feet hanging out over the tail. 
In this position his hands came just right for the 
controls. Sancho Wing’s compartment was 
next to Snythergen’s ear and Squeaky occupied 
a basket on the opposite side. Sancho would 

99 











100 


SNYTHERGEN 


have liked going back a little way for a last look 
at the bear, just to make sure they had left him 
on the ground but the wind created by their 
great speed was too strong for a finch to fly in, 
and the little bird would have been blown away 
had he ventured out. For some strange rea¬ 
son the nose of the plane kept pointing up in 
spite of Snythergen’s efforts to keep the machine 
horizontal. 

“Either there is something wrong with the 
steering gear,” said Snythergen, “or there is 
some unusual weight behind that keeps heading 
the bow up by pulling the tail down. I can’t 
point her below that big star—the one that looks 
like a flaming doughnut.” 

“You will have to keep her on the star then,” 
said Sancho, “for if anything is riding under the 
tail it isn’t safe for any of us to go back to see 
what it is.” 

All night long Snythergen steered toward the 
blazing doughnut, which grew bigger and big¬ 
ger, they were approaching it so rapidly. 

“It must be some new planet floating very 
near the earth. Maybe we can land on it to¬ 
morrow,” said Snythergen to Squeaky, but the 
pig did not answer, nor even look up. He was 
rolled up in a tight ball, his head under his body, 
fast asleep. 


C » l 

l * 



“Some unusual weight behind 1 that keeps heading the bow up 

by pulling the tail down” 











SNYTH ERGEN 


103 


By daylight the star seemed very near, but it 
no longer sparkled. Now it resembled a huge 
Christmas wreath, tied with a gorgeous bow of 
red silk ribbon which hung down in vast folds. 
Snythergen steered for the center of the hole, 
then turning and mounting to the top he made a 
landing along the shady side of a grove of pines. 
The jolt when they struck the ground wakened 
Squeaky, and glancing around he thought he 
saw a prowling shadow alight from the rear of 
the plane and disappear into the woods. The 
others looked but saw nothing. 

“It looked like a bear,” said Squeaky with a 
shudder. 

“Nonsense, you’ve got bear on the brain,” 
said Snythergen. 

Near where they had landed an enormous boy 
was playing marbles with bowling balls. He 
was nearly as tall as Snythergen and heavier. 

“Hooray! There’s some one I can talk to 
without bending down to the ground,” cried 
Snythergen joyfully. “I can play with him 
without being afraid of stepping on him.” And 
he strolled up to watch him play marbles while 
Sancho Wing and Squeaky remained at a safe 
distance, a little awed by the bigness of two 
such giant boys. 


104 


SNYTH ERGEN 


“Want to play?” asked the boy, whose name 
was Blasterjinx. 

“Yes,” said Snythergen, and the two shot the 
big ten pin balls about as if they were peas. 

“Let’s spin tops,” said Blasterjinx after 
Snythergen had won most of his marbles and 
paid back what he had borrowed. 

“This is a hummer,” said the boy, taking a 
colored top from under his blouse and winding 
it with a string as thick as a clothesline. He 
hurled it through the air and it landed upright 
on its point, spinning so rapidly it seemed 
standing still, and as it spun it sang. 

Interested in the big top, Sancho Wing and 
Squeaky edged closer and closer. 

“Why, it sounds like canary birds!” cried 
Snythergen delighted. 

“It ought to!” said Blasterjinx. 

“Why?” 

Taking the top in his hand Blasterjinx un¬ 
screwed the upper part. “See,” said he. Snyth¬ 
ergen looked inside, and beheld a flock of 
canaries singing and flying about. 

“This is the only kind of a humming-top to 
have,” said Blasterjinx. “For you can change 
the music any time you want to. I’ve tried vio¬ 
linists, pianists, story-tellers, singers, harpists— 
almost everything you can think of, but I like 



“This is the only kind of humming-top to have” 









































V 


SNYTH ERGEN 


107 

canaries best. Wouldn’t your friends here like 
to take a spin?” he asked, pointing to Squeaky 
and Sancho Wing. 

It happened to be just what they wanted most, 
so Blasterjinx opened a trap door in the floor of 
the room inside the top, and shooed the canaries 
downstairs into the top basement, telling them 
to remain silent. Then Squeaky and Sancho 
Wing descended a silver ladder into the huge 
top, and the cover was screwed on. They found 
themselves in a pleasant circular room, dimly 
lighted by stained glass windows and ventilated 
by air holes. The objects in the room, piano, 
chairs, pictures, all were fastened securely to 
hold their positions when the top wobbled or 
fell to its side. A brass railing attached to the 
wall ran all the way around, to give the passen¬ 
gers something to hold to. 

“Hold on tight now,” said Blasterjinx, and 
winding the top carefully he hurled it through 
the air. It lighted on its point, spinning at ter¬ 
rific speed. Through one of the ventilating 
holes Squeaky watched the topsy turvey land¬ 
scape dance giddily about, until it made him 
dizzy and soon he became ill from it. Sancho 
Wing was too busy keeping his balance and 
holding on, to pay any attention to how Squeaky 
was getting along. 


108 SNYTHERGEN 

“Stop the top, stop the top!” bellowed 
Squeaky. 

“What’s the matter?” cried Snythergen. 

“He’ll be all right in a minute,” said Blaster- 
jinx, taking the top in his hand and winding the 
string the other way around. When he threw 
it again it spun in the opposite direction, un¬ 
winding Squeaky and as Blasterjinx had said, 
he was all right in a minute. But he was glad 
when the top stopped and he could get out. 

Snythergen was having such a good time that 
he forgot why they had come until Sancho Wing 
flew up to his ear and whispered: “Ask him if 
there are any bears on the Wreath.” 

“I never heard of any,” said Blasterjinx, when 
the question had been repeated to him. “I am 
sure you will like the Wreath,” he went on, “for 
a good friend of yours lives not far from here.” 

“How can you know he is a friend of ours?” 
asked Sancho Wing in surprise. “You do not 
know who our friends are!” 

“I know this man is your friend just the same, 
but I am not going to tell you who he is because 
I want it to be a surprise.” 

“Have I ever seen him?” said Squeaky. 

“I don’t think so,” said Blasterjinx, “but I am 
sure he has been in Snythergen’s house.” 

“Where does he live?” asked Snythergen. 



“Stop the top, stop the top!” bellowed Squeaky 
































« 


SNYTH ERGEN 


hi 


“In a very big house about a mile from here. 
You can visit him later on, but first I want you 
to spend a week with me and see some of the 
sights on the Wreath. Your friend overworked 
himself last Christmas and needs another week 
of rest.” 

It made Snythergen homesick to go to Blaster- 
jinx’ house and meet his parents, for they were 
small like his own father and mother and their 
house was not very large either, except Blaster- 
jinx’ room which was a separate building cover¬ 
ing most of the yard. Blasterjinx’ mother was a 
kind soul and made her visitors feel very much 
at home with the aid of doughnuts, cookies and 
pies. Somehow this made Snythergen feel bet¬ 
ter, although his mother and father were always 
in his thoughts. 

The three friends told Blasterjinx about their 
adventures, and he became so interested he 
wanted to play tree at once. He tried on Snyth- 
ergen’s suit of green but it was not big enough in 
the waist for him, and when he squeezed into it 
the bark began to rip. 

“You will tear it,” cried Blasterjinx’ mother, 
“and then Snythergen won’t be able to wear it— 
for I am sure I don’t know how to mend torn 
bark. I might sew it with a pine needle, but I 
wouldn’t know what to use for thread.” 


112 


SNYTH ERGEN 


“Let’s make Blasterjinx a suit for himself,” 
cried Sancho Wing; and delighted with the idea 
they set to work. Blasterjinx was just the right 
build for a sturdy oak, and they fastened acorns 
all over his suit, and made his bark gnarly and 
his branches twisty. They tried to teach him 
the habits of an oak, but he did not learn readily. 
For being a tree did not come natural to him as 
it did to Snythergen. He was too restless to 
stand still very long. 

“He’ll never make the birds think he is real,” 
whispered Sancho Wing to Squeaky. 

“Perhaps it is just as well,” replied Squeaky, 
looking at Sancho Wing out of the corners of his 
little eyes, “for then he won’t be bothered with 
any goldfinch nests tickling his branches!” 

They were having such fun the week was up 
in no time and yet they had done no sight-seeing. 
With many warm farewells and promises to re¬ 
turn soon, the three companions left to call on 
their unknown friend. 










CHAPTER XII 

ABOARD A FLOATING BEARD 

S QUEAKY, Snythergen and Sancho 
Wing were very much surprised when 
they saw their unknown friend’s house— 
for it was the largest home they had even seen. 
They mounted the steps and Snythergen sounded 
the knocker on the great front door. Immedi¬ 
ately it was opened by a flunky arrayed in shin¬ 
ing silk clothes decorated with Teddy bears, par¬ 
rots and goldfish embroidered in colors. 

“Who lives here?” asked Sancho Wing in his 
piping voice. 


113 













SNYTH ERGEN 


114 

“Santa Claus lives here,” answered the flunky. 

“Santa Claus!!” chorused the three in amaze¬ 
ment. 

“So that’s the friend Blasterjinx meant!” said 
Snythergen. “I should say he was our friend!” 
But they could hardly believe that they really 
were at Santa Claus’ door, and in their surprise 
and wonder they forgot the doorkeeper who 
stood attentively awaiting their pleasure. 

“We would like to see Santa Claus,” said 
Squeaky at last. 

“I’m sorry, but no one can see him except by 
appointment,” said the flunky, “but if you will 
call at ten o’clock to-morrow morning you may 
have a chance to speak with him.” And with 
that he closed the great door and they were left 
alone on the doorstep. 

“There must be some way to see him. I am 
going to investigate,” said Sancho Wing, and he 
flew off. Squeaky and Snythergen threw them¬ 
selves on the ground in the shade of a great elm. 
“What a relief to have some other tree cast your 
shade for a change!” remarked Snythergen, just 
as Sancho Wing flew up very much flustered. 

“I know where Santa’s room is!” he cried. 
“He is taking a nap now.” 

“What good will that do us?” said Squeaky, 
ever practical like stout people generally. 


SNYTH ERGEN 


ii5 

“A great deal of good,” said Sancho Wing. 
“You and Snythergen wait near the door. I am 
going to make that flunky open it for you.” 
And he was off before they could make any re- 
ply. 

Sancho Wing flew through the open window 
into Santa Claus’ room. Cautiously he ap¬ 
proached the bed and hid in Santa Claus’ great 
white beard. Santa moved uneasily. 

“There are three wise men here to see you,” 
whispered Sancho softly. 

“Why didn’t somebody tell me?” murmured 
Santa Claus, half asleep. 

“The doorkeeper said you wouldn’t see any¬ 
body except by appointment,” replied Sancho. 

“Is that true?” mumbled Santa Claus 
drowsily. 

“Yes, he would not open the door; that is why 
I came in through the window.” 

Santa Claus woke up with a jump. “Who am 
I talking to!” he shouted—“or was it only a 
dream? Whoever you are come out and let 
me see you! What are you hiding for?” 

“I am just a voice, Santa Claus, and the rest 
of me is not very presentable. My necktie is 
untied and there is a hole in my stocking.” 

“Where are you hiding!” cried Santa Claus, 
and he looked under the bed, behind the chairs, 


n6 


SNYTH ERGEN 


and in the closets. Sancho Wing feared every 
moment he would be discovered, and tried to 
escape by flying out of the window. But his 
head had become caught in the long whiskers 
and he could go only the length of the beard in 
any direction. As he flew vigorously about the 
room trying to free his head Santa’s beard floated 
in the air like a living thing. 

Too surprised to move or speak, Santa Claus 
could only gaze dumbly at his beard making 
serpentine movements in the air, or winding 
about his body as if to hide behind his back. 

“What in the name of Popcorn is the matter 
with my beard!” cried Santa Claus, finding his 
voice at last. 

Sancho Wing concluded that it was wiser to 
stop flying and let the beard settle back to its 
accustomed place, lest Santa Claus discover him. 
He was too hopelessly caught to escape by fly¬ 
ing ; but he was so well concealed by the whiskers 
that Santa Claus still failed to see him. 

“Well, I give up!” said Santa Claus at last. 
“Wherever you are, you are well hidden. Did 
I understand you to say that you and your two 
friends had come to visit me? Where are the 
others?—since I can’t find you. Are they hid¬ 
ing too?” 

“They are waiting at the door.” 



“Squeaky, who is a voice with a pig’s body” 







































SNYTHERGEN 


119 

“I invite you all to dinner,” said Santa Claus. 
“ ‘Three Wise Men’ I think you call your¬ 
selves?” 

“Four, including our host,” said Sancho po¬ 
litely. 

“Thanks!” said Santa Claus. 

Sancho’s conscience was troubling him for 
he had hesitated to explain that they were not 
just ordinary men, lest Santa Claus might not 
want to see them. 

“When I said we were men,” began Sancho, 
“I used the word ‘men’ in a broad sense, to in¬ 
clude birds, animals and trees.” 

Santa Claus yawned and stretched his arms. 
He liked a chat after his nap. 

“I am glad to see you are democratic,” said 
he. “I think it is too bad that birds, animals and 
trees are so often left out. If they could talk 
they might say some unkind things of us.” 

“No, indeed, we won’t, Santa Claus,” assured 
Sancho eagerly. 

“ We? Who are ‘we’?” asked Santa Claus. 

“One of us is a boy-tree. He is a boy by birth, 
but a tree by profession.” 

“Go on,” demanded Santa Claus. 

“Then there is Squeaky, who is a voice with 
a pig’s body; and as for me, well, you know me.” 


120 


SNYTHERGEN 


“I know your voice, but the rest of you?” 
asked Santa Claus. 

“Is a goldfinch,” answered Sancho. 

“Three wise men indeed,” muttered Santa 
Claus. “How interesting it will be to have din¬ 
ner with a pig, a tree, and a goldfinch! But 
what can we have to eat that three such different 
guests will enjoy?” 

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Sancho Wing. “You 
can give the others birdseed porridge.” 

“And you?” asked Santa Claus, with a twinkle 
in his eye. 

“Oh, I’ll eat some too,” said Sancho, with 
seeming indifference, though it made his bill 
water to think of his favorite dish. 

“What will we do for table conversation?” 
asked Santa Claus. “I don’t know what sub¬ 
jects trees, pigs and birds like to talk about.” 

“You won’t need to help us talk,” said Sancho. 
“We are worse than magpies when we are to¬ 
gether.” 

“You may go back to your friends now,” said 
Santa Claus, “and I’ll see that you are admitted 
to the house.” 

Sancho made an effort to walk out of the beard 
in a dignified manner, but he was too firmly 
caught to get away so easily. He began to pull 
and struggle. 


SNYTHERGEN 121 

“Ouch!” cried Santa Claus, “who’s pulling 
my beard?” 

“I can’t get out,” cried Sancho Wing. 

“So there’s where you are! In my beard! 
Well, of all the places to hide!” cried Santa 
Claus in the greatest amazement. With a pair 
of shears and a mirror he succeeded in freeing 
the little bird after the exercise of a good deal 
of patience. 

As soon as he was released Sancho told Santa 
Claus he was sorry for the trouble he had caused, 
thanked him for the invitation to dinner, and 
flew back to his companions. 






















CHAPTER XIII 


THE PIE ROOM—BEAR AGAIN!—SANCHO 

WING SCOLDS 

THOUGHT somebody had kidnapped 
I you,” said Snythergen when Sancho 
Wing returned. “Why were you gone 
so long?” 

“I was visiting Santa Claus. He invited us 
all to dinner, and the doorman will now let us in. 
Follow me,” said Sancho. 

“Is it the three wise men?” bellowed the flunky 
through the keyhole when they knocked. 

“It is,” said Sancho Wing. 


























































124 


SNYTHERGEN 


The large door swung open and the flunky 
prepared to make his best bow. But he could 
hardly welcome three such different beings with 
one salute, so he greeted each one separately. 
To Snythergen he leaned back, pointed his face 
toward the ceiling, and bobbed down and up by 
bending and straightening his knees. Sancho 
Wing, like most little people, wished to appear 
important, and when it came his turn to bow he 
raised himself on tip claws and stretched up to 
make his body as tall as he could; then leaning 
forward stiffly he flapped his left wing. Puz¬ 
zled to know just how to respond to this, the 
door-man got down on his knees, and turning 
his head sideways wiggled his left ear. Squeaky 
had a habit of tossing his head when he bowed, 
and the flunky merely gave him a toss of the 
head in return. 

In the hall the housekeeper welcomed them 
very kindly, offering to show them about while 
Santa Claus dressed for dinner. When she 
learned that they were the “three wise men” she 
treated them with great respect. Inside, the 
house seemed even larger than it had from with¬ 
out, and Snythergen was thankful for ceilings 
so high that he could stand up comfortably. 
So enormous were the rooms each one might 
have been used as a public hall. There was 


man 






































































































SNYTHERGEN 127 

little furniture—mostly vast spaces with a back¬ 
ground of oriental carpets and cathedral win¬ 
dows. 

“What is this?” asked Snythergen, as they 
came into an odd little room in the basement 
with circular wall and a spotless aluminum 
floor. To cross it they walked on a bridge, 
raised several feet above the floor. 

“This is the pie room,” said the housekeeper. 
“The crust is rolled out on the pie pan floor 
and the work of putting in the filling is man¬ 
aged from the bridge. When it is ready, we 
light the gas under the floor and the pie is 
cooked.” 

“But who could ever eat such a big one?” 
asked Sancho Wing. 

“Oh, the bear eats most of it,” said the house¬ 
keeper. 

“The bear!” cried they in great alarm. “Is 
there a bear?” 

“Yes,” said the housekeeper. 

Snythergen turned pale and looked for the 
door. Squeaky had already started to run and 
Sancho Wing flew up to the ceiling. 

“Stay right here—there’s nothing to fear,” 
said the housekeeper, calling them back. 

“The bear arrived about a week ago,” she 
continued when they were able to listen. “We 


128 


SNYTH ERGEN 

did not want to let him in but Santa Claus tele¬ 
phoned the keeper at the zoological gardens and 
asked if bears were safe.” 

“ ‘They are,’ said he, ‘if you feed them olives 
and custard pie.’ 

“We tried it and it worked, and now there is 
not a quieter member of our family than the 
bear after he is fed. When he is hungry is the 
only time he is quarrelsome. But at such times 
we keep food between ourselves and him.” 

“We had a bear too,” said Snythergen, “but 
he always stole away as soon as he had eaten, and 
never came near except when he was hungry.” 

“That’s just like our bear,” said the house¬ 
keeper, “forever trying to hide when he is not 
at his best. But Santa Claus has him sit around 
and visit after dinner, though he makes a very 
sorry figure.” 

“Why, what does he do?” asked Squeaky. 

“As soon as he is fed his spirit is gone,” re¬ 
plied the housekeeper. “He becomes as timid 
as a mouse, and trembles if you look at him; 
jumps if you speak to him; blushes if you pay 
him any attention.” 

“How does a bear blush?” asked Snythergen. 

“He does it with his lips. They change color 
back and forth very rapidly from pink to red. 
But Santa Claus is coming and it is time for 



U6 £>ears should not talk Ivhen their mouths are 
full of food,” said S& n ta (flaus kindly 
























































































SNYTHERGEN 


129 


dinner.” As she spoke they entered a dining 
room so large, the huge table and ancestral 
chairs seemed like dolls’ furniture in its vast 
interior. 

And now Santa Claus entered smiling 
blandly. He was attired in gorgeous evening 
clothes—a flaming swallowtail coat lined with 
crimson, deep purple vest with large white but¬ 
tons ; a ruby glowing like a burning eye adorned 
his shirt. Cream silk stockings and pale blue 
knickerbockers he wore, and his boots were red 
with black trimmings. 

Scarcely had Santa Claus entered the room 
when the bear came lumbering after him. 
Eying the “three wise men” with a swift look of 
recognition he licked his chops. 

“Why, it’s our bear!” said Snythergen in a 
sickly whisper. “How did he follow us?” 

The three edged around until the table stood 
between them and the beast, and they were eying 
the nearest exit when Santa Claus requested them 
to be seated at table. The bear was served first, 
though “served” is hardly the word for the way 
they rushed food to him. Cramming his mouth 
full he uttered a few growls. 

“Bears should not talk when their mouths are 
full of food,” said Santa Claus kindly. 

But the bear answered only with an impudent 


130 


SNYTHERGEN 


growl which so frightened Squeaky that he tum¬ 
bled from his chair, upsetting a bowl of soup as 
he fell. In spite of Sancho Wing’s assurance, 
the table conversation was exceedingly re¬ 
strained. Though for politeness’ sake Snyth- 
ergen did try a few comments, which came out 
in faltering tones. Squeaky was so nervous he 
could not speak without breaking into little hys¬ 
terical peals of laughter which sounded like the 
squeals of a badly frightened pig. He had had 
one of these fits in the middle of the blessing and 
Santa Claus eyed him curiously. 

Sancho Wing attempted to calm the troubled 
scene by keeping his head and saving them from 
awkward pauses. He was not so much afraid 
as the others because he knew that, no matter 
what the bear did, he could escape by flying a 
few strokes into the air. But the nervous way 
he kept waving his wings about to be sure they 
were ready for use, showed how far his little 
heart was from peace and a feeling of security. 

At first the bear was very noisy about his 
eating but grew quieter as his hunger was ap¬ 
peased. And as the meal progressed his eyes 
became dull, his manner modest—almost de¬ 
mure. The others saw this and were encour¬ 
aged. Squeaky found his speaking voice and 
talked wisely on the advantages and disadvan- 


SNYTH ERGEN 


131 

tages of pig life. The table talk Sancho Wing 
had promised Santa Claus now began to flow, 
and the host was delighted. He asked many 
questions and nearly every one led along some 
trail of adventure, relating incidents peculiar to 
their lives. By this time the bear was painfully 
ill at ease, for he had not learned man-talk and 
the loud firm voices around him gave him 
strange fears. Were they plotting against 
him? He sat stiffly upright with forepaws 
crossed upon his chest, and ears cocked suspi¬ 
ciously. When they arose from the table Sancho 
Wing hopped over to the bear for a little private 
conversation. 

“I want to say a few words to you,” he said, 
“and luckily for you you will not understand 
them.” 

The bear shuddered and his lips turned a paler 
pink. 

Thoroughly angry Sancho Wing began: 
“You great big overgrown nuisance of a brute! 
You cowardly thieving bully!” 

If he did not comprehend the words certainly 
the bear understood Sancho’s gestures. And as 
he talked the little bird’s body shook with pas¬ 
sion. He bobbed his head, flapped his wings, 
raised one leg threateningly with claws ad¬ 
vanced. 


132 


SNYTH ERGEN 


The bear looked sheepish. His startled eyes 
were pleading now. He hung his head as he 
backed away. Sancho Wing followed closely 
scolding ever more abusively. The tiny finch 
seemed to tower with rage as he bullied the 
frightened beast, who stood six feet six in his 
bare hind paws while the finch was but a few 
inches high. When they reached the hall the 
big fellow dropped to all fours and ran. Re¬ 
turning to the big table Sancho Wing saw a hurt 
look in Santa Claus’ face and readily guessed 
the cause. 

“Forgive me for making a scene,” pleaded the 
little bird. 

“The bear is very sensitive,” said Santa Claus 
seriously. “And on the whole I think he is 
rather well behaved for a bear.” 

“I am sure I would like the bear much better 
if I did not know him so well,” said Sancho 
Wing. 

“What? Do you know him?” asked Santa 
Claus. 

There was an awkward pause. Sancho did 
not want to tell on the bear, for like himself he 
was Santa Claus’ guest. 

“I know him distantly,” said Sancho—“just a 
growling acquaintance. He may have changed 



SNYTHERGEN 133 

since I saw him last. Maybe I shall like him 
better now.” 

I am sure you will,” said Santa Claus kindly, 
as they drew their chairs up to the fire and pre¬ 
pared to spend a cozy evening. 



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CHAPTER XIV 

snythergen’s troubles 

T HE “Three Wise Men” and Santa Claus 
were sitting up very late around a coal 
fire in the enormous grate. Santa Claus 
would have preferred a log, had not delicacy of 
feeling made him avoid burning wood in Snyth¬ 
ergen’s presence. Sancho was perched on the 
back of the chair Squeaky had curled up in; and 
Snythergen sat tailor fashion on the floor. 
Santa Claus nestled in the depths of his great 
easy chair. There was no light save the flicker 
of the fire. 


135 
























SNYTHERGEN 


136 

“I don’t know when I have had such an enjoy¬ 
able evening,” said Santa Claus, “and I am sure 
it is past all our bedtimes.” 

“Oh, no,” said Squeaky, “we got into the habit 
of late hours on account of the bear.” 

“What bear?” said Santa Claus, in surprise. 

“Oh,” said Sancho on his guard, “there was 
one prowling about in the forest where we 
lived.” 

“You needn’t have been afraid if you had pro¬ 
vided him with food,” said Santa Claus. 

“So we found,” said Snythergen feelingly. 

“I have been thinking,” said Santa Claus, 
“that we make a cozy little group together. I 
would be glad to have you stay here and live 
with me.” 

“Splendid,” cried Snythergen. “This is the 
only comfortable house I ever saw. The archi¬ 
tect had the good sense to make the ceilings high 
enough.” 

“There is a bedroom upstairs, too, just right 
for you,” said Santa Claus, “and you may all 
occupy it together if you will promise to go to 
bed and not talk.” 

“Oh, Santa Claus,” cried Snythergen de¬ 
lighted, “you are too good!” 

“And we’ll be polite to the bear,” said 
Squeaky. 


SNYTHERGEN 


137 

“Maybe you won’t like it here as well as you 
think,” said Santa Claus. “I shall expect you 
to do some work.” 

“We don’t mind that,” said Sancho Wing. 
“Snythergen built a house and table!” 

“Speak for yourself,” said Snythergen. “Tell 
Santa Claus what you can do.” 

“Yes, Sancho, what work can you do?” asked 
Santa Claus. 

“Oh, I’m a good watch bird,” said Sancho 
Wing. “I can get up close to people and hear 
all they say, and see all they do without being 
seen myself. If necessary there is always some 
little place for me to hide. I can dodge into a 
man’s coat pocket—or”—(with a sly look at 
Santa Claus)—“creep into his beard!” 

“I can testify to that,” said Santa Claus em¬ 
phatically. 

“And Squeaky here, what can he do?” asked 
Santa Claus. 

“I will say this for him,” said Snythergen, 
“he’s good about visiting. Usually he sleeps 
while I work so as to be bright and lively when I 
want to rest. He entertains me and makes me 
forget my troubles.” 

“Your troubles!” said Santa Claus in surprise 
—“I didn’t think you had any.” 

“Oh, yes, plenty of them! The little ones, 


SNYTHERGEN 


138 

such as”—(with a look at Squeaky)—“pigs nib¬ 
bling my toes, woodpeckers stabbing my trunk, 
bears biting my roots, bothersome nest-build¬ 
ers”—(here Snythergen winked at Sancho 
Wing)—“tickling my branches; woodchoppers 
plotting against my life—these are bad enough. 
But my big trouble—” His face grew long and 
a great tear trembled on his cheek and splashed 
down on Squeaky’s head, making him jump. 

“What is the big trouble?” asked Santa Claus 
kindly, while Sancho Wing and Squeaky looked 
up in surprise. 

“I never told anybody,” said Snythergen. 

“Maybe you would rather not say anything 
about it now,” said Santa Claus sympathetically. 

“Oh, I must tell you. I have a father and a 
mother and I love them very much and they love 
me. I ran away because they do not make 
school houses large enough for boys like me. 
I told my mother I would come back some day. 
Now I think of it I am afraid I cannot come to 
live with you—it’s too far away from home.” 

“Why, Snythergen, you never told us you had 
any parents,” said Squeaky. 

“I supposed you knew I had. Every boy has 
to have them. I used to steal away at night in my 
tree suit and go home when you and Sancho 
Wing were fast asleep. I would brush my 


SNYTH ERGEN 


139 

branches on the second story windows until 
father and mother looked out. I did not dare 
tell them it was I for fear they would want to 
send me back to school, and I feared father 
might spank me.” 

“It would take rather a tall man to bend you 
over his knee,” said Santa Claus. 

“Oh, it wasn’t his size, but his voice I was 
afraid of,” said Snythergen. 

“Then your father is a little man?” asked 
Santa Claus. 

“Yes, he and mother are midgets. I guess 
they adopted me because they admire big 
things.” 

“What does your father do?” asked Santa 
Claus. 

“He is a philosopher,” said Snythergen. “He 
thinks and plans while mother knits.” 

“I wonder how midgets would like it here?” 
asked Santa Claus, thoughtfully. 

“I am sure they would like it very much,” 
said Snythergen, “except for one thing. They 
are sensitive about their size and cannot bear 
to live in a house with high ceilings. You see 
it makes them realize how small they are. But 
if you are willing to have them here, I can build 
a little two-story house with six rooms, and set 
it up in a corner of our big bedroom. I could 


SNYTHERGEN 


140 

place it where it would not be in the way, and 
when the housemaid comes to sweep and dust I 
could hang it up on a hook in the wall.” 

“I will have to look up our laws before I can 
ask them,” said Santa Claus. “I don’t think 
grownups are allowed to come to the Wreath. 
I might as well repeat, since you may come here 
to live,” he continued, “that this is no palace of 
idleness. There is much to do and everybody 
helps. The reindeer’s faces, necks and ears 
have to be washed every day, and the sleighbells 
rubbed with silver polish. We have to keep 
track of all the children in the world and enter 
the new babies in a big book as fast as they are 
born. We have a toy factory where Christmas 
presents are made, such as popcorn balls, Noah’s 
arks, fire engines and dolls.” 

“What will the bear do?” asked Squeaky anx¬ 
iously. 

“I intend to have him pose as a model for 
Teddy Bears,” said Santa Claus. “Of course 
the housekeeper will have to sit by his side ready 
to feed him olives and custard pie the moment he 
shows any restlessness.” 

Santa Claus took his watch from his pocket. 
“It’s my bedtime,” said he, “so if you are ready 
I will escort you to your room.” 

A house automobile was waiting in the hall. 



A traffic butler stood at hall intersections 





































1 


SNYTH ERGEN 


143 

The distances between rooms were so great that 
Santa Claus used motor cars to take his guests 
about the house. As Snythergen was too large 
to ride he had to walk behind, and his long 
strides easily kept pace with the machine—too 
easily. He was so taken up with the pictures on 
the walls and peeping into the rooms they 
passed, he neglected to look where he was going. 
Several times he tripped on the car, almost up¬ 
setting it. The chauffeur grew to fear this dan¬ 
ger from behind more than the perils ahead, and 
drove looking backwards. Once when he gave 
a sudden lurch to avoid Snythergen’s foot, 
Squeaky fell out, and there was a great squealing 
in the hall until he was picked up and put back. 
Snythergen apologized to both of them and 
promised to be more careful. 

The halls were as wide as boulevards and in 
place of stairways there were graded inclines, 
enabling chauffeurs to drive from floor to floor. 
The traffic even at that late hour was heavy, for 
eatables were being taken from vegetable cellars 
to kitchens; towels and bedroom linen were be¬ 
ing whisked here and there; servants were re¬ 
turning to their rooms after a social evening. 
Muffled honks were heard at the turns, and a 
traffic butler stood at hall intersections. 

At last they drew up beside an enormous 


SNYTHERGEN 


144 

chamber illuminated by points of light set like 
diamonds in the deep blue of a vaulted ceiling, to 
give the effect of stars. Snythergen was over¬ 
joyed when he saw his bed. Actually it was 
several feet longer than he was. For once he 
would not have to sleep twisted up in a circle, 
but could lie full length like any one else. 

When Squeaky got into his little bed he was 
surprised to find a silk tassel sewed to each of 
the blankets and sheets, and wondered what it 
was for. Pig-like he had to experiment. He 
pulled one and to his amazement it resisted. It 
was as if some one concealed in the foot of the 
bed were trying to pull it away from him. No 
wonder the tassel slipped from his grasp! A 
blanket ran away, disappearing into the foot¬ 
board with a bang. Squeaky was so shocked he 
fell to the floor and when he got into bed again 
the blanket was nowhere to be seen. He pulled 
another tassel. This time a sheet made off. He 
tried others, and by the time he was through 
pulling tassels every bit of bedding had disap¬ 
peared and he could not find any of it. Shiver¬ 
ing with cold he called Snythergen. But the 
room was too big and the beds too far apart for 
Squeaky to make himself heard. 

“What’s this?” he cried, upsetting something 
on a stand beside his bed. It was a little tele- 


SNYTHERGEN 


145 


phone. Consulting the directory he found a 
number opposite “Big Bed.” When he re¬ 
moved the receiver a bright voice chirped 
“Merry Christmas.” It was central and 
Squeaky gave the number. 

Snythergen heard soft chimes at his bedside, 
and when he saw it was the telephone he did not 
remove the receiver at once, for he was enjoying 
the sweet tinkling sounds. When at last he did 
answer, Squeaky was very impatient. 

“Why didn’t you answer?” he demanded. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Snythergen. 

“Somebody’s stealing the bed clothes, and I 
am almost frozen. I can’t find a stitch of cov¬ 
ering.” 

“Is that all? I will be right over,” and in a 
moment Snythergen stood beside the pig’s bed. 
When he saw what had happened to Squeaky he 
leaned back and laughed until another great 
tear splashed down upon the pig. 

“I didn’t call you over to give me a bath,” said 
Squeaky. “You’re only making matters worse, 
—and what are you laughing at anyway! I 
can’t see anything amusing.” 

“Why, you poor pig!” cried Snythergen, as 
soon as he could control his voice. “Can’t you 
see that the bed clothes wind up in the foot of 
the bed on rolls like window shades? All you 


SNYTHERGEN 


146 

need do is to lean over and pull the silk cords, but 
you must grasp them firmly. You can pull up 
or take off as much bedding as you like without 
getting out of bed. Now good night, I’m 
sleepy!” said Snythergen and he went back to his 
bed for the first comfortable night’s sleep of his 
life. 




















CHAPTER XV 

TOY FOODS 

T HE next morning “the three wise men” 
had a long chat with Santa Claus, and 
it was decided they were to come there to 
live. But Santa Claus explained to Snythergen 
kindly that as he had feared, it was against the 
laws of the Wreath to bring any more grown-ups 
there; and that he would be unable to include his 
parents in the invitation. 

Snythergen looked so sorrowful when he 
heard this that Santa Claus said brightly: 

147 









SNYTHERGEN 


148 

“Cheer up! Stay for a while, and I will see 
if it cannot be arranged somehow.” 

Snythergen’s interest in the wonderful things 
he saw soon revived his spirits—though the 
thought of his mother and father was seldom far 
away. 

When Santa Claus explained to the house¬ 
keeper that the family would be enlarged by 
three new members, she looked rather doubtful. 

“Are you sure, Santa Claus,” she asked, “that 
it is wise to add them all at once, before you know 
more about them?” 

“Yes, I am sure,” he said, “and I know they 
will be handy in the toy factory.” 

And so it proved. For a time the newcomers 
made themselves so useful, even the housekeeper 
wondered how they had ever managed without 
them. Sancho Wing devised all sorts of new 
toys. Squeaky made a model of a Teddy Pig so 
cunning and lifelike, it bid fair to vie in pop¬ 
ularity with the famous Teddy Bear. When 
you squeezed it it squeaked so naturally, that 
you had to look twice to be sure you were not 
holding a live pig in your hands. Snythergen 
designed a mechanical tree that walked on its 
roots and waved its branches in the most comical 
manner. 

For a month Snythergen was happy. He 


SNYTHERGEN 


149 


seemed almost to have forgotten his “big trou¬ 
ble.” But as the novelty of his new life wore 
away, he found his thoughts returning more and 
more often to his mother and father. One day 
Santa Claus said to him: 

“Snythergen, you are not happy and the rea¬ 
son is not hard to guess. No boy can be happy 
long away from his parents. The housekeeper 
and I have been talking it over and we can find 
no way of getting grownups admitted to the 
Wreath. So I have decided to give you your 
choice. Either you may stay here and live with 
us, or I will reduce you to the size of an ordinary 
boy and let you go home.” 

“Can you make me small like other boys!” 
cried Snythergen excitedly. 

“Yes,” said Santa Claus, “I can do it by feed¬ 
ing you toy foods! I can have my cooks and 
my bakers make such tiny cakes and pies, that if 
you eat them one at a time, you will grow smaller 
and smaller. It will not be easy and you may 
have to go hungry at times, but in the end you 
will be just the right size. You can play with 
the other boys and no one will laugh at you. 
Then you may return to your father and 
mother!” 

“And not see you, and Squeaky, and Sancho 
Wing any more!” faltered Snythergen. 


150 


SNYTHERGEN 


“You may come and visit us at night after your 
mother has tucked you in your bed—just as you 
used to steal away from the forest to go home.” 

Snythergen still hesitated. 

“You will be very happy,” said Santa Claus. 
“You will grow up to be a man, and all your 
life you will be happier for having visited Santa 
Claus’ land on the Wreath.” 

Snythergen made the choice that Santa Claus 
knew he would, the one that any boy would have 
made. There was a great deal of bustle in all of 
the kitchens and bakeries on the Wreath, as they 
made toy foods for Snythergen. There were 
wonderful loaves of bread shaped like the little 
tree doctor, which Snythergen wanted to devour 
by the handful, but was permitted to eat only one 
at each meal. There were cookies molded in 
the form of the woodchoppers’ axes, cakes and 
pies resembling the nest that had once tickled his 
long green boughs. 

Little by little Snythergen un-grew until he 
became the size of a boy. At last the day of his 
departure arrived and his friends were gathered 
before Santa Claus’ door to bid him farewell. 
The doorkeeper and the housekeeper said good- 
by with feeling. When he came to Blasterjinx 
the big fellow bent over, placed one hand on the 
ground, palm up for Snythergen to stand on, 



And squeezed him almost as tightly as the farmer’s wife had done 







































































































































































































































SNYTH ERGEN 


153 


then lifted him up to say good-by. Snythergen 
felt a keen pang of regret when the sight of his 
friend made him realize that his own great size 
was gone. But this feeling was soon forgotten 
in an affectionate farewell to the faithful chums, 
with whom he had shared so many joys and dan¬ 
gers. He took Squeaky into his arms and 
squeezed him almost as tightly as the farmer’s 
wife had done. Sancho Wing perched on his 
shoulder and tried to say good-by in as loud a 
voice as when first he had spoken to Snythergen, 
but somehow the words caught in his throat. 
As Snythergen said his last farewell to all, even 
the bear’s eyes filled with tears (he had just had 
his olives and custard pie). 

“We shall expect you to visit us very soon,” 
said Santa Claus as they parted. 

How they all waved and cheered as Snyther¬ 
gen rose in his boy’s airplane and began the jour¬ 
ney home! Turning his head he watched them 
until they dwindled to mere specks and disap¬ 
peared. 












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r 


•w 


O 



CHAPTER XVI 

HOME 

A S Snythergen’s friends passed from view 
a new happiness came into his heart, 
overcoming the sorrows of parting—for 
at last he was going home. All day he had been 
soaring above the clouds, and now he was speed¬ 
ing through the air in the swift descent. It was 
night and the Wreath was but a star. Soon he 
was sailing above the forest, over the tops of 
his old comrades the trees. “They would never 
recognize me now,” he thought; then suddenly 

he wondered: “Will they recognize me!” 

155 ' 










SNYTHERGEN 


156 

He was almost home. Choosing a clear 
space in a pasture, he made a landing, and hur¬ 
ried towards the house. It was a warm, still 
night in mid-summer. Through the open door 
he saw his mother and father sitting by the 
lamp. 

“I wonder where our dear boy is to-night?” 
Snythergen heard his mother ask. 

“Mother! Mother!” he cried. 

“It’s his voice!” cried his mother, jumping up 
and running to the door. “Snythergen! Snyth¬ 
ergen! Where are you?” Both parents were 
looking up among the tree-tops. “Where are 
you,” they cried. 

“Here I am,” answered Snythergen, now but 
a few feet away. “Don’t you see me,” he said, al¬ 
most under their noses. 

“No,” said they, looking toward the top of the 
house. 

“Is it only his voice that has come back,” fal¬ 
tered his mother, her eyes filling with tears. 

“No,” cried Snythergen, throwing his arms 
about her waist. 

“What’s that!” she screamed in fright. 
“Snythergen!” she whispered, recognizing her 
boy. “How you have changed!” The mother 
took her boy in her arms and kissed him again 
and again. 


SNYTHERGEN 


157 

The father could hardly believe it was Snyth¬ 
ergen, but there was no mistaking the voice. 

“He has come back a regular boy!” cried he, 
waiting for a chance to hug his son. “How did 
you make yourself small?” he asked, too impa¬ 
tient to wait any longer. 

“Toy foods!” shouted Snythergen, half smoth¬ 
ered in his mother’s embrace. 

“I knew it! I knew it!” cried the father. 
“Just after you left I thought of toy foods—but 
then it was too late.” 

They entered the house and Snythergen began 
telling his adventures. It was a happy night— 
the first of countless others that were to come. 
For a happier boy than Snythergen simply did 
not exist. 






















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